Man in Moominland
by Sharks Potter
Summary: One minute, British student Martin Park is running through a thunderstorm in downtown Helsinki. Lightning strikes him and he finds himself mysteriously transported to the magical world of the Moomins, just as described in the Tove Jansson stories. Is he dead, in a coma, or just plain mad? And will he ever find a way back to his own world?
1. Chapter 1 City of the Arts

Although the weather was usually cloudy at this time of year in the Gulf of Finland, this particular afternoon was much greyer than usual in downtown Helsinki. This famous city of artists and writers, the capital of Finland, was a popular place for foreign exchange students, come to study architecture, literature or drama from abroad. Indeed, two such students were currently speeding down Aleksanterinkatu Avenue in their rented Fiat. The driver did a wild turn to avoid an incoming tram, following the road towards the Senate Square.

"...Like I was saying, Martin, you really should consider joining our class next semester. _Verdammt_ , we could sure use a creative mind like yours on the team!"

"I've already told you, Ulrich, my specialty is architecture," said Martin, "I'm simply not cut out for such things. Inspiration, fantasy... What was that you were telling me about the other day, about Tove Jansson?"

Seventeen-year-old Martin Park was from England. The only son of a decorated RAF officer killed in action a couple of years back, he had decided to follow the family's profession of civil engineering, enrolling into the University of Helsinki. His German friend, Ulrich Urchs was a literature student, a few years ahead of Martin, and a bit of an eccentric nerd as far as Martin was concerned.

"The Moomins, _ya_ ," replied the German enthusiastically, "Tove Jansson made an enormous breakthrough in Finnish literature with her works. She laid the foundations of modern literary culture she did, that woman."

"I thought she only wrote those stories for children," said Martin, carefully refraining from using the word 'silly', knowing how touchy Ulrich could be about literature. In truth, he didn't know very much about the Moomins, aside from a few scanty episodes he used to watch on the telly as a little kid. Although, like every culturally-aware person, he'd read a book every once in a while, Martin didn't believe in dreaming – his late father had always said that braving the harsh reality was better than shoving it under the carpet with some fantasy. Martin had admired his father all his life and after he died, he'd taken his teachings even more seriously and quickly moved on with his life.

"Oh no, it's much more than that," said Ulrich, "That's what people often fail to appreciate about stories – literature is more than just good writing, entertainment and cultural expression. It's one of mankind's oldest and most effective remedies for the mind and soul. Tove Jansson herself felt trapped and depressed when war struck Finland in the 1940's so she created the world of the Moomins as a means of escape – a happiness which she continues to share with future generations." Others would have thought Ulrich was plain mad or simply obsessed; but Martin personally didn't know what to make of his friend's peculiar hypothesis.

"There's a big difference between fantasy and reality, you know," he told him, "What's the use of escaping the truth by daydreaming of something that isn't even _real_?" Ulrich fixed him with the gaze of a philosopher.

" _Mein Freund_ , there's a thin line between your heart's true desires and the barriers of the real world. When you're deprived of something you desire so badly, like say the happiness of being part of a big and loving family, then your subconscious must let it out somehow; even by giving you the blessing of inspiration to put it down in writing. It's simply as inevitable as your own breathing. You have to _live_ it, even in your own mind, and that's what gives you a sense of consolation."

Those words stung Martin bad; he was a staunch level-minded person at heart, but, truth be told, the loss of the father had left him extremely lonesome. He had no siblings or relatives, no one except his widowed mother, who had been affected by the death of her husband even worse than her son was, making her depressed and withdrawn. But, what sense of closure could he possibly hope to find through a _storybook_? The very idea was absurd.

"Some creative minds have taken it a step further," continued Ulrich, "You remember the story of that boy who met the characters of his favourite book in another dimension?" Martin suppressed a hollow laugh, "Anyone who enjoys reading _Watership Down_ back in England knows that story."

"So, what lesson of life do we learn from it then?" asked the German, sounding a little too much like a psychiatrist trying to snap his patient out of a spell of depression. But Martin wasn't in the mood to discuss it any further. The pain of the loss of his father was entirely personal and he'd overcome it eventually, as he always did all his problems.

As they crossed through the Rautatientori Square, Martin asked Ulrich to pull over, "Could you drop me off here please, Ulrich? I've got some library work to do for my assignment over at the Kamppi Centre. Bloody thing's due in next Monday. I can catch the tram back to campus."

"You sure? It seems like there's going to be quite a downpour," said Ulrich, pointing at the cloudy sky. But Martin, who always saw worse weather back in England, was unconcerned, "Never mind. This raincoat will shed water." Grabbing a battered RAF-issue rucksack, which had once belonged to his father, and which he now used to carry his laptop and books around with, he stepped out of the car.

" _Auf Wiedersehn_ , Martin!"

"Ta-da, mate!"

Biding his friend goodbye, Martin donned the hood of his raincoat and hurried along the pavement towards the Kamppi Centre a few blocks away. This neighbourhood was one of the best in all of Helsinki, with the Finnish National Theatre and the Ateneum Museum of Arts – what had formerly been the Academy of Fine Arts, the alma mater of Tove Jansson. This was the place where fans of Finnish art and literature, like Ulrich, liked to hang around in.

Walking over to a nearby kiosk beside the railway station to buy himself a drink before he went to the Kamppi Centre, mostly because he hated the cafeteria's ridiculously high prices there, he happened to glance at the Ateneum across the street. The Tove Jansson collection, he'd heard, had recently been moved there in memory of the long-deceased writer and was now being exhibited to the public. Outside, the newly-erected bronze statue of a Moomin figure stood tall and proud.

Paying the kiosk vendor and pocketing his Cola, Martin scurried over to the statue for a closer look. It wasn't much to look at; roundish, chubby, with a long, snout-like nose, it looked more like a stuffed toy hippopotamus for children to cuddle in bed. His friend's talk earlier seemed more absurd than ever. _This_ was the alleged southing of a tortured and lonely soul? Not likely!

He didn't know how long he stood there when he suddenly became aware of the heavy rain droplets trickling down the sides of his raincoat. The sky had gone completely dark and lighting flashed brightly overhead. It was a heavy storm all right, making Martin regret his decision to make a detour here. He didn't particularly mind getting soaked, but he didn't want to risk ruining his brand-new laptop in his bag. Not only was it an expensive machine, but all of his university work was on that damn thing! All around the plaza, pedestrians were running for cover. The entrance to the tube station on the other side looked like it would provide some shelter.

Hurrying back across the square, he slipped on the wet paving slabs and fell flat on his face. Muttering a curse at his muddy hands and bruised kneecaps, he grabbed hold of the nearest thing for support – a steel flagpole, flying the Finnish flag. This was a big mistake.

During thunderstorms, any person with an ounce of common sense knows better than to walk out in the open, where lighting strikes the tallest object in sight; more importantly, nobody dares touch any exposed metal surfaces that attract lightning like magnets. Before Martin could realize his mistake, the damage was done.

A bolt of lightning, the granddaddy of all lightning strikes, struck the tip of the flagpole; in the fraction of a second, his hands, still clutching the pole, burst with a burning, agonizing pain that instantly engulfed every cell in his body.

The ground seemed to open beneath him like a trapdoor; his universe exploded all around him in a blinding white light as he found himself falling through a vast nothingness, which seemed to reach beyond the boundaries of physical reality itself...

 **Author's note:** This is my first _Moomins_ fanfic. I hitched upon the idea after recently rediscovering some old episodes of _Moomin_ which I hadn't seen in twenty years and forgotten all about. I'm currently reading the novels and see how I can wrap them into this story. Tribute to my old pen-friend RogueFanKC for the _Cross Bearer_ (also on ). Enjoy and PLEASE REVIEW!


	2. Chapter 2 Snork Maiden in Distress

He was falling through absolute nothingness; even his body seemed to have somehow lost its physical mass. It was as if he had been vaporised, his soul and subconscious mind cast into the Great Unknown. Absolute infinity, without any meaning of space or time, completely enveloped his reality, as he rematerialised... Then the ride was over as quickly as it had started.

Martin landed flat on his face, with such force he felt as if he'd run headlong into a brick wall. Groaning and shaking, his heart almost pounding out of his chest in shock, his fingers caressed... _grass_? What had happened? Had he been blasted across the street onto the lawn he had seen outside the National Gallery? As soon as the aches all over his body had subsided, he opened his eyes to an awful change.

Where there should have been the cobbled-stoned ground of the plaza, now there was a grassy plain, blooming with grass and colourful flowers. The Rautatientory Square had vanished; he had left Helsinki completely, finding himself in the middle of an unfamiliar countryside, a valley surrounded by tall mountain ranges it seemed. Between the scattered patches of forest dotting the valley, he could see the rooftops of some peculiar tall, rounded houses, which were unlike any architectural design he had ever seen before. How had he ended up here? And just _where_ was here?

Pulling himself to his feet, he crawled over to the foot of a nearby tree to rest. Strangely enough, he discovered he was completely unharmed by the lightning strike. There was no sign of burn wounds on his hands, no blistering, not so much as a scorch mark. A few small bumps and bruises on his knees and face from the fall, but otherwise he was in good shape. His bag was still hanging over his shoulders and all his possessions appeared undamaged. But that was of little consolation as he turned to get a better look at his changed surroundings.

It didn't make any sense. How could he have left the city? He had no recollection of leaving the plaza. Perhaps he was suffering from...a spell of post-trauma amnesia or something? Could he have wondered off without realizing where he was going and ended up out here? Then again, how could he have made his way across an entire city and out into the countryside and not remember a thing? Perhaps someone had brought him here by car while he was unconscious and dumped him out in the middle of nowhere? But what nutter would do such a thing?

Alarmed, he felt his pockets but discovered his wallet, phone and other valuables were all still there, so it hadn't been an attempt to rob him blind. Then, maybe it was someone's idea of a practical joke perhaps? And a most distasteful one at that, as far as Martin was concerned. If that were the case, he'd have that sick prankster's guts for garters when they next met... But then, consulting his watch, he realised no more than half an hour had passed since he'd bid Ulrich goodbye back at the Rautatientory. There was no way he could have left the city in such a short time. So what was this place?

He took out his phone. If he could get hold of somebody, find out what the hell was going on here. To his utmost dismay, he found he had no signal. Satellite inception remained steadily on zero as if all cell services in the country had suddenly gone offline. He was all alone. Fear began to kick in.

Forcing himself to stay calm and think, he stood up. His father, God bless his soul, had taught him many valuable lessons at life, including the importance of not panicking when caught in a strange or difficult situation. A calm and thinking mind always had far more potential in getting you out of tight scrapes, he'd used to say. All right, so he was lost and he had no communication. In that case, he had better start moving. He needed to find someone, to get directions.

Setting off, he walked for a little while, following a dirt path. Nothing looked familiar anywhere; not a single concrete road, no traffic, nothing. Then, he spotted a lone, balding figure standing on the edge of the path up ahead with his back turned to him, studying a bed of flowers with a magnifying glass. His clothes seemed very odd-looking, almost like a theatre magician's cloak, but Martin had too many problems of his own to care about some oddball dressed up funny in public. Hoping that botanist might give him directions, he approached. Hearing his footsteps, the 'man' turned round to look at him.

The face that met Martin's gaze almost made the teenager jump out of his skin in surprise. What he had mistaken for a man was actually something else – not human and not animal either. The botanist's face had a long, roundish snout like that of a hippopotamus, large beady eyes and coarse, short white fur that seemed to cover his whole body, which was turning grey from age. For a crazed moment, the gobsmacked Martin couldn't decide whether this was a nightmare or someone wearing the most life-like troll costume he had ever seen.

The troll, or whatever the botanist was, stared curiously back at Martin, annoyed at being interrupted, or perhaps at the fact that this young stranger was gaping at him like a fish out of water. He didn't seem the least afraid of Martin, but definitely a tad bit suspicious at seeing a stranger around.

" _Vad vill du_?"

In spite of his surprise and confusion, Martin immediately recognised a familiar language. It was Swedish, which he knew from his immigrant mother, who came from Stockholm. Having grown up bilingual, he was almost as fluent in Swedish as he was in his native English – one of the reasons why he'd enrolled in the University of Helsinki, where Swedish was only second-best to Finnish. Quickly getting over his shock, he answered in the same tongue.

"Eh...I beg your pardon. I'm kind of lost. Could you tell me where Helsinki is?" Boy, must he sound like a blithering idiot! To his surprise, the troll merely shrugged his shoulders in puzzlement.

"Helsinki? I don't know that place, young man." Martin felt more perplexed than ever.

"Then could you tell me where I am, please?'

"Moominvalley, of course!" snapped the troll incredulously, as if it were the most absurd question in the world. When Martin tried asking him again for directions, the troll gestured in the direction of one of those strange circular houses he had seen.

"If you're still looking for this Helsinki place, I suggest you go to Moominhouse and ask for Moominpappa – he's the most travelled Moomin in these parts. He might know."

"I will, thank you."

As Martin wondered off, with the troll still staring suspiciously after him, he wondered if he was going completely mad. Moominvalley? Moominhouse? For crying out loud, he could swear all this gibberish sounded strangely like...why, of course, the _Moomin_ stories by Tove Jansson, which Ulrich had been telling him about! What was all this craziness about? Had he stumbled across some elaborate theme park or something? But someone as level-minded as Martin Park could tell real from fake in a heartbeat – and this place was beginning to look a little too real for his liking.

Fighting the urge to panic, he did the only thing that came to mind: he turned on his heels and run. He didn't know where he should go or what he should do, but he knew he couldn't stay in this nightmare of a place a minute longer. He didn't know for how long he had been running, before he finally came to the edge of a slope, overlooking the sea. Was this the Gulf of Finland, which overlooked Helsinki? He had no way of knowing.

The sight of the sea gave Martin a tiny ray of hope. If he was still in the vicinity of Helsinki, then he could make his way back along the coast. He had visited the Aurinkolahti Beach with Ulrich last summer and knew how to find his way around there. Scampering down the rocky slope to the sandy beach, he turned to look at the two directions open to him – should he go left or right?

Flipping a coin, he took a right turn and began his march along the beach. He kept his eyes glued in the distance for any sign of the seaside resort hotels of the Vuossari district. Alas, there was no sign of it, as far out as his eye could see. Off shore, he could see a foamy barrier of reefs and little islands, constantly being bashed by the waves of the open sea. After a while, finding nothing, he settled down on a rock to rest.

So far, he was getting nowhere. So what was he supposed to do now? Should he turn back and try following the shore in the opposite direction? But what if that also turned out to be just another dead end? Desperate for something to distract him from his building despair, he turned to take inventory of what he had on him.

Going through his pockets, he found his inoperative cell phone and his wallet, which contained his RBS debit card, an international student's ID card, a British driver's licence, his passport, a book of Helsinki tram tickets, a photo of his family and 55 Finnish Euros in bank notes, plus another six in pocket change. All right, he had some money if he had to travel some distance to get back – assuming, of course, his money could be used around here. His mobile phone was currently useless, but he figured he might as well hang on to it for the time being.

Going through his bag, he found his laptop, some journals and essays on architecture he had borrowed from the university library earlier that day, his notebook, pencil-case, containing his pen, pencil, a pen-flashlight and a small multitool he carried around, and the charger for his computer. The journals were just dead weight to carry; he might as well use them to make a campfire. His laptop would continue to be of use to him only for as long as the battery held out.

Martin was very proud of his computer. Being a studious person, he had filled the computer with an archive of useful study material, including an elaborate e-library of science books, journals, encyclopaedias, a structural-design simulator, some literature and poetry, and even some films and documentaries. All that information, which he always carried around on his computer wherever he went, had its uses in more ways than one.

Taking a sip of the Cola he had bought earlier, he felt somewhat better. All right, he was in a bit of a pickle, but he shouldn't despair. There had to be a way out of this...whatever it was that had happened to him. Looking out at the sea, he saw the tide was rising and he'd soon have to get off the beach. Then, he suddenly noticed something on the rock beside him: a small wicker bag filled with seashells.

He was just wondering to whom this belonged to, when he heard a shrill cry coming from further down the beach – a young girl's voice, screaming for help. Someone was in trouble! Scampering over the rocks, he spotted another of those hippopotamus-like trolls, in this case a young girl, in the water just off shore. The poor creature had been wading around in the shallows it seemed, gathering seashells, and seemed to have gotten trapped on something. With the tide rising fast, she was thrashing about madly in a desperate effort to free herself, whilst struggling to keep her head above water, about to drown.

"Help me, please!" she cried, catching sight of Martin, "The water's rising! Please, hurry!"

For an instant Martin was petrified, unsure whether he should intervene and perhaps unwillingly get himself into even more trouble than he already was. But he couldn't just leave that poor creature out there to drown! Discarding his bag, he hurryingly stripped off his coat, sweater and shoes and took the plunge.

The water was freezing cold, even for the young Brit, making him shudder. Swimming out to her in a few powerful strokes, he took her hand. The girl was panicking with fear, the water now up to her chin and rising, as she tried to grab him around the neck. Martin struggled to calm her down, before she drowned the both of them.

"I'm going to get you out of here," he said, "But I need you to stay calm. Can you do that?" The fact that help had arrived seemed to give her some courage and she managed to get her panic somewhat under control. Giving her a reassuring smile that everything was going to be all right, Martin sprang into action.

Grabbing her by the shoulders, he pulled with all his might. He could feel something heavy anchoring her down by the ankle, trapping her like a bear in a snare. It was no use. Taking a deep breath, he swam under. He could see her foot was caught in a crack between two rocks. He tried prying them apart by hand but they wouldn't budge. He couldn't do this alone. What he needed was a lever, which he didn't have. Unless...

Resurfacing again, he saw the water was getting dangerously high; the girl could only gasp for breaths between the waves hitting her, her head only seconds away from going under, after which, unless she could grow gills, it would be goodbye.

"Please, help me! I don't want to die, please...!" she cried pitifully, looking utterly terrified at the rising water. It seemed hopeless, but Martin wasn't giving up yet. Reaching into his pocket, he took out his pen. Pulling the nib and ink-tube out with his teeth, he improvised a straw for a makeshift snorkel, which he forced into her mouth. This would hopefully buy her a few more precious minutes of breathing time until he could get her out.

"All right, I need you to keep this straw upright and keep breathing through it. I'll be right back!" That caused the frightened girl to start panicking again, thinking he was leaving her to her fate.

"No, please, come back! Don't leave me...!" she screamed after him but Martin didn't pause to offer any reassuring words; any delays by talking could mean the difference between life and death. Running back up the beach in his wet clothes, he looked frantically around for anything he could use as a lever. Nothing but sand and rocks all around. Then he spotted a collapsed tree that had fallen from the cliff overlooking the beach, lying half-buried in the sand.

Rushing over, he grabbed hold of a protruding, sturdy-looking branch, putting all his muscle power into it. After a moment's strain it snapped and he hurried back down to the water, carrying the branch over his shoulder. Swimming back out to the girl, he saw her head was now completely submerged; only the end of the makeshift snorkel still stuck out of the water. Luckily, she had taken his advice and was holding the snorkel upright, letting her breathe, but only for a few seconds longer. Very soon, the straw would be underwater too and that would be the end of it. He had to hurry.

Swimming under again, he looked for a good spot between the rocks to place his lever. Being an architecture student, he knew a great deal about engineering, including tricks when applying torque with levels. Doing a few hasty calculations in the back of his mind, he wedged the branch into place where he best figured would put the minimum strain on his fragile lever, whilst still applying maximum shifting power against the rock.

Looking above him, he saw the sea had risen too high, so the straw was now below water too. Now the girl could do nothing other than hold her breath for as long as she could, and was quickly losing the battle. Her frightened eyes looked pleadingly at Martin one final time, unable to cry out anymore, as if begging him for a miracle. It was now or never. Putting all his weight against the lever, Martin heaved with all his might. That, in turn, forced the rocks apart by a mere fraction of an inch, just enough for her foot to slip free and she floated up to the surface. Looking, he saw it had been a gold anklet she had been wearing that had gotten snagged between the rocks, landing her in this death trap. Pocketing it, he kicked for the surface.

Resurfacing beside her, he grabbed her by the middle and, keeping her head above water, pulled her ashore. Scooping her up into his arms, he carried her safely back onto dry land. Although she was quite chubby, she felt almost feather-light in Martin's arms. The she-troll collapsed on the sand, coughing and splattering, gasping for air. Martin grabbed his coat he had left lying on the rocks and wrapped it around her shoulders.

"There, there now, it's all right. It's over," he said, tenderly stroking her hair. Finally recovering from her ordeal, the girl turned to look at Martin, her expression resembling that of a damsel who had just met her dream knight in shiny armour. Martin started growing a little nervous; he had always been somewhat shy around girls, something his pals back home used to tease him about, even more so when she embraced him.

"Oh, thank you! Thank you!" she cried over and over again, clinging to him, "You saved my life!"

In spite of his uneasiness, Martin couldn't help but admire how pretty she was. With soft snow-white fur, like the rest of the inhabitants of this strange land, she had a curly fringe of blonde hair on the front of her head and stunning green eyes that shone with loving bliss and kind-heartedness. She wasn't much younger than him, best guess maybe twelve or thirteen years old. Okay, she may not be exactly human, but beauty does come in many forms after all.

"You're very welcome," he said sheepishly, helping her sit down on a nearby rock. Reaching into his pocket, he presented her with her golden anklet. The girl was overwhelmed with joy as she asked Martin to put it back on for her. Obviously, this trinket meant a lot to her, "Just make sure you don't go swimming alone again in future."

"I don't know how to thank you," she said, still visibly shaken, "If you didn't happen to be passing here, I'd be... But, who are you?" she asked, "I've never seen you around here before."

"I'm called Park. Martin Park," said Martin, introducing himself, "And you?"

"My name's Snorkmaiden," said the girl joyfully, shaking hands with Martin, "Where do you come from?"

"From England – from way across the sea," he explained, noticing her blank stare, gesturing out towards the horizon. The Snorkmaiden was stunned.

"From across the sea?" she exclaimed, "Were you shipwrecked?"

"Well, in a manner of speaking," said Martin, not too keen on having to explain to his new friend about the freak accident that had brought him here just yet. After all, how does one explain being thrown into a new reality by a bolt of lightning? Frankly, he still couldn't decide whether he was dreaming or if this was indeed the real thing. It was only then that he realised just how cold he was.

Having given the Snorkmaiden his coat, he was still dressed in his wet clothes, which were making him shiver to no end, leaving him close to hypothermia. However, he had more decency than to ask for his coat back from a lady. The Snorkmaiden noticed his shivering.

"You're freezing cold!" she said with concern, taking the coat off of her and wrapping it around him. She took his hand, "Come with me. I'll take you to see my good friend Moomintroll. His family will help you."

"Thank you, but I really don't want to intrude..." Martin tried protesting, but the Snorkmaiden would hear none of it. Tenderly, she reached out and kissed his cheek, causing Martin to blush.

"Oh, silly, of course you won't be intruding! Besides, you saved me today – I for one would like to return the favour in kind," she said, "Come on now, before you catch cold!" Although still hesitant, Martin figured it was his best bet at this point. As far as he could tell, he had nowhere else to go, save for continuing on foot toward some uncertain future, so he agreed.

As the two youngsters made their way up the beach together, back towards the valley, Martin couldn't help but wonder. Could this adventure have something to do with Ulrich's psychoanalysis? The dots sure seemed to form a pattern somewhere along those lines. Had he been brought here for a reason? Was he dead, in a coma, or just plain mad? And how, how on earth, was he supposed to get back?

 **Author's note:** Just to clarify, the story will mostly follow along the same lines as the books, as well as the 1990 _Moomin_ anime series, with some added characters and plot changes. Tribute to the late Susan Sheridan (1947-2015), who gave the title character his voice on screen.


	3. Chapter 3 Meeting the Moomin family

The Snorkmaiden led Martin back inland, towards the place he now knew was called Moominvalley. Despite his uncertainty of how the strange inhabitants of this dreamland would receive him, he, a strange creature dropped into their midst literally out of the blue, the company of his new friend offered him some encouragement. The Snorkmaiden, on the other hand, couldn't wait to introduce Martin to her friends.

"You're going to love them all," she said excitedly, "Moomintroll is so brave and clever, and Moominmama and Moominpapa are so kind. You also have to meet my brother, the Snork. He can be a bit obsessed with his inventions at times, but he's the biggest genius in all of Moominvalley..."

The Snorkmaiden and her brother were Snorks – a species of white, roundish troll, not unlike the normal Moomins Martin knew from the Tove Jansson novels. The two of them, orphaned at a young age, lived in another part of the Valley, where the Snork had raised his baby sister. Both were close friends of the Moomin family. Frankly, Martin couldn't tell one species from the other, save for the Snorkmaiden's distinct golden fringe, as well as another characteristic of hers he had observed.

Passing through a pasture of white petunias, the Snorkmaiden, who loved flowers, stopped to pick a few. Martin, in a friendly gesture, also picked one and placed it over her left ear to please her. He was taken completely aback when she suddenly turned a shade of purple, as she muttered her thanks, beaming with joy. Noticing his surprise at her changed appearance, she smiled.

"I'm sorry, we Snorks change colour according to our moods," she explained, slowly shifting back to her normal golden-white, "Thank you for the flower. It's so beautiful..."

"Not as beautiful as you," Martin complemented her, admiring her innocent and gentle nature. The Snorkmaiden blushed.

Pretty soon, they came to one of those peculiar round dwellings that dotted the Valley – coincidently, the same one that other troll on the road had directed Martin to earlier. The teenager didn't know what to make of the rather eccentric architecture of the tower-like, wooden house, which resembled one of those old porcelain stoves used in Finland back in Tove Jannson's time. He vaguely remembered Ulrich saying something about the Moomins supposedly being descended from smaller, primitive trolls that lived in such stoves in human kitchens. _Guess their descendants eventually outgrew them_ , he thought.

"Oh...!"

Suddenly, the pair was caught by surprise by a small, scrawny-looking creature with dirty brown fur, resembling some sort of imp, who came running their way, accidentally bumping into Snorkmaiden. Martin saw him hurryingly hide something shiny behind his back as the two youngsters turned to look at him. The Snorkmaiden frowned slightly at the sight of him, obviously not too happy to see him.

"Hallo, Stinky."

 _Stinky...what a fitting name_ , thought Martin, trying not to gag by the imp's off-putting smell, which was like someone who only took a bath maybe once a year. The imp smiled wickedly at the two of them, revealing his yellow, rotting teeth, still concealing whatever it was he was holding behind his back, "Well, good morning to you too, Snorkmaiden." His beady eyes then came to rest on Martin, "And who is this buffoon then?"

"This is Martin, a good friend of mine," said the Snorkmaiden proudly, narrowing her eyes at the word 'buffoon', "He saved my life today." The imp smirked.

"Well, well, Snorkmaiden, so you got yourself a new boyfriend!" he chanted, "Poor Moomintroll will be so heartbroken. Then again, he was real scrawny to begin with..."

"How dare you!" cried the Snorkmaiden, "He's the best Moomin in the whole world!" Stinky sniggered nastily, "He's scrawny and you're fat!" The Snorkmaiden seemed like she was about to cry. This guy's lack of personal hygiene apparently mirrored his lack of manners, thought Martin angrily. One thing his British upbringing couldn't let him abide with was watching someone hurt a lady's feelings like this. He cleared his throat, cutting off the despicable little riff-raff's laughter.

"You had better watch your mouth, pal!" he warned Stinky, "Where I come from, little creeps like you have a nasty habit of ending up with their teeth bashed in – a rather unpleasant lesson in manners I'll be happy to teach you!" Although obviously taken aback by Martin's threat, who was nearly twice his height, Stinky couldn't help but throw another taunting remark.

"Oh yeah? You and whose army?" Martin balled his fists, about to show this cheeky bugger exactly 'whose army' he was dealing with. However, the Snorkmaiden stopped him.

"I'll let you know my heart will always be Moomintroll's," she glared in disgust at Stinky, clearly still angry, "Why don't you go back to your mischief, Stinky, and leave us alone?" Strangely enough, Stinky seemed very keen to oblige and Martin suspected it had something to do with whatever he was hiding behind his back.

"Good idea, Snorkmaiden. After all, honest criminals like me always have a busy schedule." Without another word, he turned and took off, as quickly as he had appeared.

"You had better watch out for Stinky," the Snorkmaiden told Martin, "He can be really mean at times."

"It's all right, I've had my fair share of encounters with little scoundrels like him," said Martin. Having grown up in a dodgy neighbourhood in London's East End, where teenage gangs ruled the streets, he knew how to either keep his distance, or else hold his own in a fight. The likes of Stinky were always those who got off the worst when they crossed the lines, so he needn't trouble himself...unless of course, one finds yourself in the wrong place at the wrong time.

"Stop, thief!"

Turning in alarm, they saw a mob coming their way. Leading them was a burly-looking troll in a police constable's uniform, which Martin remembered the Snorkmaiden saying was called a Hemulen – another sub-species of the Moomins, not much different, except for their longer snouts and the fact that they, unlike the Moomins and the Snorks, wore clothes. Following him were a second, elder Hemulen in a long cloak, which Martin recognised as the botanist he'd met previously on the road and another unfamiliar, rodent-like female troll with elegant blond hair and a long pointed nose like a mouse. The three of them seemed to be chasing someone.

The botanist suddenly pointed at Martin, "Over there! That's that stranger I was telling you about, Inspector! He must be the thief!" Martin's heart skipped a beat. _Thief?_ _What thief?_ The female troll, who was struggling to keep up with the others because of her long dress and high heels, screamed hysterically, "Arrest him, Inspector! That hoodlum has stolen my necklace!"

Before Martin knew what was happening, the burly Hemulen called the Inspector had marched up to Martin and grabbed his arm, pointing an old-fashioned flintlock pistol between his eyes.

"Hold it right there!"

"Hey, stop pointing that thing under my nose!" snapped Martin, not happy about having a loaded gun pointed in his face, "What do you want with me?"

"You're under arrest for burglary, young man," said the Inspector, "Now where's the necklace you lifted from Mrs Fillyjonk?" Martin was baffled.

"Burglary? I know nothing of any burglary, Constable."

"That's _Police Inspector_ to you, if you don't mind," said the Inspector sternly, "And playing the innocent won't do you any good. Cooperate and give back the stolen goods and maybe I'll go easy on you." Martin felt about to panic.

"I tell you, I have no stolen necklace on me!" he protested, "I have never even seen this tro-...I mean, this _lady_ before in my life."

"Liar!" screeched the elegant, and as far as Martin was concerned, outright pompous female troll called Mrs Fillyjonk, "You have my necklace, you little rascal, I know it!" Blimey, this busybody sure is a tarter, thought Martin.

Meanwhile, the commotion had begun attracting attention. From Moominhouse, the front door opened and out came its residents to investigate: a strong-looking Moomin with a smart, black top-hat, accompanied by a tan-furred female Moomin wearing a stripped kitchen apron and carrying a black handbag, who was probably his wife.

"What's all the commotion here?"

"Sorry to disturb you, Moominpapa, Moominmama," apologized the Inspector, "But there's been some trouble. We think this young stranger has stolen..." However, this time the Snorkmaiden came to Martin's defence.

"Please, Inspector, he was with me the whole time. He can't be the thief." Fortunately, the Inspector, who knew everyone in Moominvalley and, being an old friend of Moominpapa's, was willing to hear her out.

"Is this true, Snorkmaiden?" he asked. Indeed, this strange boy with the odd clothes didn't look like a thief to him and the last thing a police Inspector wanted was for a suspect he detained to be ultimately proven innocent, which would make him look real bad in his report.

"And, pray tell, what were you doing wondering around with this...this _foreigner_?" snapped Mrs Fillyjonk. The Inspector however ignored her and asked the Snorkmaiden to explain. She told them about how she was out gathering seashells on the beach and had gotten trapped in the rising tide, only to be saved by Martin, who happened to be passing by.

"I see," said the Inspector finally, "It looks like you've had a real lucky escape today, Snorkmaiden."

"Indeed, I think we all owe young Martin an enormous gratitude," said Moominmama, clearly impressed.

"Never mind all that nonsense!" snapped Mrs Fillyjonk incredulously, "What about my necklace?" This one has one serious attitude problem, thought Martin, rolling his eyes. The Inspector, wanting to get to the bottom of this, turned back to Mrs Fillyjonk.

"Madam, did you actually see young Mr... _Park_ , was it? – steal your necklace?" The irritable she-troll shrugged.

"Well, no, I'd left it on the window sill for one moment and when I looked back it was gone," said Mrs Fillyjonk, "What are you suggesting, Inspector? Are you calling me a liar?!" The Inspector ignored that last question and turned to the other Hemulen.

"What about you, Mr Hemulen?" he asked, "Did you see the suspect at the scene of the crime?"

"I never said that," said the Hemulen, obviously not wanting to be accused of pointing a finger at the wrong person, "I just figured you might want to know of this peculiar stranger wondering about, Inspector." However, at the persistence of Mrs Fillyjonk, there was only one way for them to know for certain.

"Mind if I take a look what you've got in that bag, young Mr Park?"

Although Martin wasn't particularly happy with strangers going through his stuff, he thought it best not to argue and emptied his bag for the Inspector and Mrs Fillyjonk to see. The last thing he wanted right now was to get in trouble with the law on account of someone else's stupid mistake. His possessions, including his laptop, his phone and even the unheard-of Euros in his wallet raised a few confused eyebrows, but otherwise there was no sign of any stolen necklace.

"I told you I had nothing to hide, Inspector," said Martin, glad to be out of hot water, "But maybe you'd want to check out that other character who came this way. What was his name again...?"

"Stinky, yes!" cried the Snorkmaiden, also realising the obvious, "He was holding something behind his back, which he wouldn't let us see... It must have been Mrs Fillyjonk's necklace!" The realisation caused several angry whispers all around. No doubt this Stinky character had a reputation as a well-established crook in these parts. Still, at least it left Martin in the clear.

"My sincere apologies for the inconvenience, young Mr Park," said the Inspector, feeling really unprofessional, "I hope you enjoy your stay in Moominvalley." And he hurried off, in pursuit of the long-gone Stinky, followed by Mrs Fillyjonk. Mr Hemulen paused for a moment, still staring curiously at Martin, before strolling away, to return to his botanical surveys.

"Well, now that this misunderstanding is all cleared up, why don't you all come in for some tea and lemonade?" said Moominmama kindly, "You too, Martin. I want you to meet the family. Dear, can you please go and find the Snork and tell him Snorkmaiden is all right? He'll be so worried." Moominpapa nodded and hurried away.

Moominmama led Martin into the parlour, a spacious, comfortable room adjacent to a veranda, with a massive stone fireplace, an old-fashioned grandfather clock, and a large squashy sofa. There were two other youngsters there, playing cards at the tea table. One was a weird-looking brown troll, with a slender built, a long nose, large ears and a tail, resembling a cross between a kangaroo and a mouse. The other was a young, chubby Moomin with a kind face and deep blue eyes, around the Snorkmaiden's age. This had to be her good friend Moomintroll, the only son of Moominpapa and Moominmama.

At the sight of the Snorkmaiden entering, Moomintroll excitedly stood up and hurried over to greet her. The two youngsters lovingly embraced.

"It's so good to see you up from hibernation at last, Moomintroll," said the Snorkmaiden, kissing his cheek, "Took you long enough this year." Moomintroll blushed.

"Well, you know, we Moomins like to sleep for months on end," said Moomintroll sheepishly. Then, he noticed Martin, "Oh, and who is this, Mama?"

"Boys, come say hello to Martin please," said Moominmama, "You too, Sniff," she added to the kangaroo-like troll who was still sipping his lemonade at the table, looking rather shy. The Snorkmaiden wasted no time in telling them how she had met Martin. The Moomins were all impressed.

"See why I don't like water?" said Sniff, "It's dangerous and full of monsters!" The Moomins rolled their eyes; the problem with Sniff, an orphan Moominmama had taken in as an infant and raised alongside her son, was that he couldn't swim and was utterly terrified of water, in direct contrast to his adoptive brother who took to water like a duck. Moomintroll and Martin shook hands.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Martin,' said the young Moomin excitedly. Like the Snorkmaiden, he too was a very kind and good-natured fellow, "Thank you for saving Snorkmaiden. She means so much to us." The Snorkmaiden gratefully hugged Moomintroll.

"Pleasure's all mine, little buddy," said Martin, smiling down at Moomintroll, who was at least a head shorter than he; all of the Moomins, he realised, were noticeably shorter than the average human being, making him the tallest in the room. In spite of being trapped in this strange world of theirs, their friendliness still amazed him.

"I say, has anyone seen Little My?"

Martin was wondering who this 'Little My' was, when they were all caught by surprise by a curious rustling sound coming from his bag, which Moominmama had hung on a peg by the door along with his coat. Turning to look, Martin saw there was something moving in there...something alive! There was a beeping sound, which Martin realised was that something messing with his laptop packed in there.

 _Snap!_

"Ow!"

The disturbance caused the bag to shift from its peg and came crashing down on the floor, spilling its contents all over the floor. Then, the little intruder emerged from within; Martin's initial thought that it was a cat or some other family pet the Moomins kept proved to be totally incorrect as he laid eyes on the tiniest dwarf of a girl he had ever seen, nursing her nose irritably. It seemed the laptop CD tray had burst open when she'd been prodding it, banging her on the nose as it did.

"Little My!" cried Moominmama crossly, hurrying over with Martin and the children, to help retrieve their visitor's belongings from the floor, "What do you mean by going through a guest's things without asking? It's rude!"

"Well, that way you can't know what they're hiding!" retorted Little My indignantly, struggling to untangle a cord from a pair of earphones wrapped around her neck. Despite her small size, she had quite a feisty and gutsy demeanour, which Martin nonetheless found rather likeable about her.

Moomintroll and Sniff helped Martin pick up the scattered contents of his bag. Well, the former was at least, while Sniff was more interested in examining a handful of change from Martin's wallet. Always on the lookout for easy wealth or valuables, he was puzzled by these strange coins, which were neither gold, nor silver, nor bronze.

"Wh...what kind of money is this? What is this metal?"

Martin smiled, "They're called Euros. They're made of nickel, or at least I think so." Sniff was eyeing a two-Euro piece, "Is it valuable?" Martin was half-thinking of giving a fantastically high value on the coins for a joke, but then decided against it; the last thing he needed was to be another target for robbery for that little douche-bag Stinky.

"Valuable? No, not really," he said, putting the change back in his wallet. "It might buy you a couple of bottles of Cola at best." He showed them the bottle of Coca-Cola he had purchased from the tube station kiosk back in Helsinki...wherever that was now. To demonstrate better, he unscrewed the cap and let them take a whiff of the stuff.

Sniff cringed at the odd smell of the fizzy drink that was making his nose itch. Whatever this stuff was, somehow he didn't think it tasted like Moominmama's special green lemonade, which he was so crazy about. He couldn't even make heads or tails out of this strange, light flexible 'glass' that the bottle was made from, which was of course plastic. But Moomintroll, always bolder than his step-brother, cast an eager glance at Martin, who nodded his permission, and he took a sip. His expression as the sugary fizz rolled onto his tongue was like that of a kid in a candy store.

"Mmmm...this stuff is lovely!" he exclaimed, passing the bottle to Snorkmaiden, who tried it as well, "Oh, how delicious! Just like Moominmama's ice-cream!" Martin smiled. In a way, he envied the Moomins; they were all part of this big and loving family, so full of life. His own childhood had been short and lonely; being an only child, coupled with the early death of his father, he had very few happy memories.

"What about this?" asked Little My, who was examining Martin's laptop, trying in vain to pry it open, "Is this some sort of lock-box full of stolen jewels?" Martin gently took the laptop back from that little devil, before she could damage it by trying to pry it open.

"Hardly, you little cutie," he said, reaching out to ruffle her on the head, only for her to indignantly swat his hand away. Obviously, Little My wasn't the type of girl to be cuddled or called a cutie, despite her small size, "It's called a computer; a device that allows you to store and process data... _information_ , like memories in your head, so to speak," he added, seeing the blank expression on their faces. Obviously, the very concept of computers or electronics was completely unheard of in this world.

"You mean this machine is like a...like a _brain_?" asked Moomintroll, looking utterly amazed at such a contraption, "Are you an inventor then?"

Before Martin could explain however, the door opened and in came Moominpapa, accompanied by another fellow with a white fringe and thick square spectacles, whom Martin guessed was the Snorkmaiden's big brother, the Snork. He was much older than his little sister, at least ten years her senior, but had the looks of a brilliant mind. The Snorkmaiden had told Martin during their walk here that he was an inventor and really good with his hands, and Martin could easily buy that now. But he wasn't so sure whether he shared his sister's good-naturedness, as the Snork fixed him with a stern glare.

"What's this I hear about you harassing my little sister, you young vagabond?" This guy obviously had gotten it all mixed up, thought Martin. It seemed the incident with Mrs Filyjonk's stolen necklace wasn't the only misunderstanding fate had in store for him today.

"Snork, please!" the Snorkmaiden crossly berated her brother, "Martin saved me from drowning! I'll thank you not to insult him!" Realising his blunder by not waiting to hear Moominpapa out first, the Snork lowered his head apologetically.

"I beg your pardon...Martin, was it?" he said, "It's just that I don't like my sister being alone with strangers; nor when she decides to disobey me, after I explicitly told her not to go swimming on her own!" he added reproachfully to his sister, who glared defiantly back at him. Clearly, the Snorkmaiden, in spite of her gentle nature, wasn't the kind of girl to let her big brother tell her what to do.

"I can take care of myself, thank you, Snork!" she retorted, "What's more, Martin is a real gentleman!" Obviously the Snork was the typical dotting, overprotective big brother, yet despite their occasional little sibling spats, Martin could tell that they cared deeply for one another. Such a pity _he_ didn't have a little sister to dot on... The Snork turned back to Martin.

"I'm most grateful to you for helping Snorkmaiden," he said curtly, shaking hands with the teenager, "So what brings you to Moominvalley? You don't exactly look like a shipwrecked sailor, like Moominpapa said..."

"Well, that's because I wasn't exactly shipwrecked," explained Martin, "It's kind of a long story..."

"Then why don't you tell us all about it, dear?" suggested Moominmama, "I'm sure we'd all like to hear about it."

"Oh, yes, we all love listening to nice stories!" said the Snorkmaiden, "Please, Martin!"

Figuring they deserved an explanation, although it probably wouldn't exactly be a pleasant one, Martin told them about how he'd come to be here. He told them how he was a foreign student studying in Finland, about his lonely childhood following the death of his father, and about the strange accident that had brought him here.

"...When I came to, everything had changed all around me, and the rest of the story you know," he said, explaining what had happened after he was struck by lightning, "I still can't decide whether I'm dreaming or my brain's just fried to a sizzle... and frankly I have absolutely no idea _how I'm supposed to get back home_!"

"You were struck by _lightning_?" chipped in Little My, thinking it was real funny, "Oh, boy, I'd like to try that!" She made playful imitations of being zapped by a bolt of lightning and dropping dead. Despite the seriousness of it all, Martin couldn't help but smile at her antics. The Moomins however, realising their new friend's difficult, albeit mysterious, situation, didn't think this was cause for amusement. Obviously, there wasn't much they could do to help him get back, but there was one great virtue all Moomins possessed: aiding those in need.

"Martin, why don't you stay with us?" asked Moominmama kindly, "My husband and I would be delighted to put you up. I'm sure the children would agree too," she said, gesturing in the direction of her son and his friends, who looked ecstatic at the idea.

"Yes, Martin, you'll like it so much here!" piped in Moomintroll, who always liked making new friends, and was currently finding this strange Martin Park very interesting indeed, "You've got to meet our friends Snufkin and Mymble...!"

"Thank you, but I don't want to be burden to you all..."

"Oh, Martin, there's no need to be so humble," said the Snorkmaiden, cutting him off. She, in particular, would hate to see him go so soon, "Come on, please say yes." Figuring the boat had already sailed, so he might as take what he got, at least until he could figure out what to do, Martin finally nodded.

"All right then, I'll stay," he said, causing cheers to break out all around, "And thank you all very much."

"Pleasure is all ours, Martin," said Moominpapa, giving him a friendly pat on the back.

 **Author's note:** So now Martin is staying with the Moomins. From here on, the story will continue with a series of adventures, some borrowed from the original novels or the TV series, others will be invented. Suggestions are welcome. Enjoy and please review!


	4. Chapter 4 Another Day in Moominvalley

Martin was arisen from his slumber at the crack of dawn by an excited Moomintroll. He had been living with the Moomins for a week now and had grown accustomed to the young, playful Moomin making an early start every morning to play with his friends outside and dragging him along with him. He had been given a private guestroom next to Moomintroll's bedroom and Moominmama had lent him some old-fashioned nightclothes to use at night (the Moomins wore no clothing except their nightshirts). Although not exactly what Martin was used to back in his own world, he managed.

At first, Martin, being seventeen, wasn't so sure about joining in what he figured were probably dull, children's games; however, realising how Moomintroll and his friends adored him and not wanting to be left out, he had decided to give it a shot. He found that life in Moominvalley was anything but dull, especially when in his new friends' company. He, Moomintroll, Sniff, Little My and Snorkmaiden would spend all day having fun outside, exploring around Moominvalley, as well as meeting new friends, like today.

"Wake up, Martin!" Moomintroll shook him again, jumping up and down with excitement, "Come on, Snufkin's finally here!"

Martin stood up and yawned, "All right, little buddy, hold your horses! I'm up." He glanced at his watch; it was hardly seven o'clock. "Aren't you up a little early...?"

"But Snufkin's back!" repeated Moomintroll, pointing out the window at what Martin noticed was a tent pitched on the edge of the stream close to Moominhouse. "Come on, we're going to do something really exciting together!"

Martin grabbed his clothes, lying clean and neatly folded at the foot of his bed, courtesy of Moominmama, and dressed. Then, he and Moomintroll hurried downstairs. They could hear Moominmama, always an early riser, busy in her kitchen as usual, making breakfast. Pausing outside Sniff's room, its owner snoring inside, they knocked. Sniff was never a morning person so it took a good couple of knocks before he opened the door, ears drooped and sleepy eyes staring annoyed at them, like someone who had woken up on the wrong side of his bed.

"Please go away you two!" he groaned, "Can't you see I'm sleeping?"

"Come on, Sniff, don't be so lazy!" said Moomintroll, "We're going to do something really exciting with Snufkin!" Sniff's ears perked up, thinking it might involve one of his two favourite subjects besides sleeping: food and treasure hunting. Quickly washing his face, he joined Martin and Moomintroll and they hurried out.

At the door, they bumped into a waiting Little My, who had a tendency of always making her presence known long before someone came looking for her. The dwarf Mymble booed loudly at them, jumping into their path at the door, catching them all by surprise.

"Going somewhere without me?"

"Oh...no, of course not, Little My," muttered Moomintroll sheepishly, while Martin tried hard not to laugh. In spite of her mischievousness, Little My could be really funny at times, especially when she made one of her dramatic entrances. With her hitching a ride on Martin's shoulders, they made their way towards Snufkin's camp.

Approaching the camp, Martin saw a rugged-looking youth of around his age sitting on a nearby bridge, playing a harmonica. A fishing rod trailing its tackle over the edge of the bridge stood by his side. Although most of the inhabitants of Moominvalley were trolls and other non-human creatures, Martin had soon discovered there were humans in this world too, like Snufkin. Despite his worn-out clothes and vagabond-like appearance, this Snufkin character looked like a real smart and level-minded person. Moomintroll approached and greeted him.

"It's so good to see you again, Snufkin," he said, hugging his best friend, "Welcome home!"

Snufkin, like Sniff, had been raised by the Moominfamily; he had been found as an abandoned orphan in a basket floating on the river, just like Moses. After growing up, he'd left home to see the world, travelling south every winter, although he always returned to Moominvalley in the spring to be with his friends.

"It's good to see you again too, Moomintroll," said Snufkin, putting aside his harmonica and returning the hug, and greeted Sniff and Little My too. Moomintroll then turned to introduce Martin.

"Snufkin, this is Martin. He's come to live with us," he said excitedly, "He saved Snorkmaiden's life." Snufkin looked impressed but refrained from complimenting Martin for his heroism like the others had done; instead, he merely shook hands with the newcomer.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Martin," he said curtly, "Welcome to Moominvalley."

With Snufkin also joining them on their morning stroll, the group of five set off to pick up the last member of their little group: Snorkmaiden. The Snorks' house was only a short walk from Moominhouse, situated atop a small hill on the edge of the Valley. Just like every house in Moominvalley it was roundish and stove-shaped, albeit not as high as Moominhouse.

The Snorkmaiden was already up and about, picking flowers in her garden. Inside, the Snork, who rarely had time to sit down to breakfast like everyone else, was barricaded in his study as usual, buried deep in his work. The Snorkmaiden saw them coming and hurried over to greet them.

"Good morning to you, Moomintroll, Martin," she said excitedly, hugging each of them in turn, "You too Sniff, Little My and Snufkin." They all happily returned her greeting. Snorkmaiden went inside to tell her brother she was going out, but only met with a dismissive ' _a-ha'_ from Snork. The workaholic inventor was too preoccupied with his latest invention, a flying ship, or so Martin had heard, to chat.

They set off, making their way up the mountain. Moomintroll and Snorkmaiden walked together hand in hand, enjoying each other's company; Snufkin walked alone, playing his harmonica; Little My simply scurried along. Martin, who liked morning exercise, was enjoying the refreshing breeze as they made their way up along the narrow footpath. These long walks not only allowed him to get a better look at his new surroundings, but also gave him plenty of quiet time to think about his situation.

So far he'd gotten nowhere trying to figure out whether he was just dreaming or that he was in fact living in a new reality. For the past few days, he'd wake up every morning, expecting to find himself back in his student dorm or in a hospital in Helsinki, only to discover he was still in Moominhouse and a whole new world. Strangely enough, he was actually enjoying it very much; with the Moomins, he was getting to do many of the things he'd missed as a child. The happiness of life in Moominvalley couldn't possibly be found in his dodgy neighbourhood in London's East End, in his broken home with his depressed, widowed mother. If this was all part of Ulrich's theory of finding happiness from within your own subconscious, like by being thrown into a new reality by a lightning strike, he'd sure been right. Secretly, he wondered if he would ever see his friend again to tell him all about it...

The only one not enjoying the stroll was Sniff; tired and missing his breakfast, he kept grumbling about why they always wanted to do something 'exciting', or more precisely, as far as he was concerned, dull and boring walking. At last, they reached the top of the mountain.

From up here they had an excellent view. Down below they could see the whole of Moominvalley, with Moominhouse clearly visible in the centre. Smoke was coming from the chimney and Martin was sure Moominmama would have something good for them when they got back. Beyond the Valley, the endless sea stretched out to the horizon.

"What a gorgeous view!" exclaimed Moomintroll, "You can see everything from up here!" Martin was staring curiously at another, higher mountain peak on the other side of the valley; that one was completely obscured by dark storm clouds, the sides of the mountain steep as walls all around. The sight was quite foreboding, yet intriguing all the same.

"What's that place?"

"It's called the Lonely Mountain," explained Moomintroll, "Nobody knows what's up there – the mountain is completely impassable. Papa said he tried climbing up there many times when he was young and never succeeded. Oh, what an adventure that would be, no?"

"Not for me, I don't like heights," muttered Sniff with a shudder, "And they say that place is haunted by that monster, the Groke..." Martin might have laughed at Sniff's superstitions if he weren't suddenly feeling so nostalgic at the thought of what that mountain might look like from a bird's eye view. How he missed the good old days of flying gliders with his father. As if on cue, Snorkmaiden spoke up.

"Maybe my brother's flying ship can reach the top of that mountain," she said, "Snork has always dreamed about building one..." Those words suddenly had the wheels in Martin's head turning with an interesting realisation.

"Your brother is actually building an aeroplane?" he asked her. The Moomins all stared at him blankly.

"What's an...aero- _plane_ , did you call it?" asked Snufkin curiously. Martin explained to them about the aeroplanes that dominated the skies back in his own world and how they worked. He also told them how he used to fly gliders with his father before he died, where he'd enjoy the wonderful experience of drifting in the wind high above the earth. The Moomins were stunned.

"You've actually _flown_ a real flying ship?" asked Moomintroll in amazement, "Could you built one then?"

"Don't be dumb, of course he can't!" retorted Little My, who thought the idea of making a flying ship was completely preposterous. Martin however, was suddenly struck by a wild idea at his friend's question. He was an engineering student after all and while he obviously hadn't designed a full-scale aircraft before, he had apprenticed for years in his mother's business, building model planes. Maybe he could adapt that knowledge for building a real, full-sized aircraft, perhaps a glider, like his father's?

Despite his newfound happiness, Martin was secretly still having trouble adapting to his new life in Moominvalley. Over here, realities away from the world he knew, away from his university and away from his family and friends, he served no real purpose; yes, he had been welcomed by the Moomins and had made some wonderful new friends in them, but he wanted more than just being a strange visitor. Well, what better way than to use his otherwise wasted education and skills to make a working aircraft, the first of its kind in this world? The thought sure had its merits...

His thinking was cut short however when a bored sick Little My suddenly snuck up from behind and tickled Snorkmaiden in the ribs and ran off, saying she wanted to play tag. The others quickly joined in and they were soon having a wonderful time chasing each other all over the mountain. But their game was suddenly interrupted when some unexpected trouble struck.

Martin was chasing Snorkmaiden, easily catching up with her because of his longer legs, and playfully pinning her to the ground. Keeping her pinned, she started tickling the living daylights out of her. Snorkmaiden squealed with laughter.

"Martin, stop! Not fair!" she screeched, "Please, stop it!"

"Not before you admit surrender," said Martin cheekily, grabbing her by the ankle and tickling her foot, her worst spot. Overwhelmed with ticklish laughter, Snorkmaiden could take no more.

"I surrender! I surrender!" she screeched, "Just stop tickling me!"

Finally, Martin relented and helped her to her feet. Snorkmaiden thanked him, out of breath from laughing too hard, but giggling all the same. It wasn't in her nature to hold a grudge easily, even when her friends would tease her at times.

Suddenly, they saw Little My running towards them. Martin, thinking they might be teaming up on him, was about to duck and run, when he suddenly realised Little My wasn't playing around – in fact she looked close to panicking, her usual gutsy attitude completely gone. Something was up.

"What's the matter with you?"

"It's Moomintroll!" she panted, out of breath, "He's fallen into an ant-lion hole and can't get out! Come on!"

They followed Little My over to another spot on the mountain. There, Martin saw a large, cone-shaped crater in the ground with smooth, near-vertical sides, making it a perfect pitfall. Clinging desperately to the side partway down, fighting tooth and nail not to slide all the way to the bottom, was Moomintroll. It seemed he hadn't been looking where he was going until it was too late. And poking its ugly head out from the earth at the bottom, hissing menacingly, was the ant-lion.

Even Martin couldn't help but suppress a shudder at the sight of that hideous creature, large as a dog, its mean little red eyes fixed hungrily on Moomintroll, as if sizing out its soon-to-be prey. Moomintroll, unable to climb out and unable to keep out of reach of the hungry ant-lion for much longer, was beginning to panic.

"Help me! I can't hold on!"

The Snorkmaiden gasped, slapping her hands over her mouth in terror at the sight of her friend trapped down there. Desperately, she tried reaching out to him, "Come on, Moomintroll, give me your hand! Just a bit farther..." But Moomintroll was too far out of her reach. None of them could reach him.

"I...I can't reach," he cried, "Help, Snorkmaiden, please!"

Noticing the ant-lion, tired of waiting, was about to make a grab for Moomintroll, Martin sprang into action. Taking off his long English overcoat he'd brought with him from the other reality, he wrung it up, fashioning a makeshift rope. Making sure it was sturdy enough, he passed one end to Snufkin – the strongest in the group, besides Martin. They all grabbed hold, watching in awe as Martin prepared to jump, holding onto the other end.

"Hang in there, little buddy. I'm coming for you!"

Lowering himself down the side of the pit as far as the length of his coat would allow him, he reached out to Moomintroll. But their hands were still a good couple of inches out of reach. But then, Moomintroll, fully aware that if he missed he'd end up right on top of that ant-lion, yet determined to save himself, worked up the courage and gave a desperate leap. Martin barely managed to grab his hand; but, by that time, the ant-lion was upon them.

Moomintroll yelled in pain as the ant-lion latched itself onto the end of his tail with its teeth, pulling him back down. Up top, a frantic Snufkin, Sniff and Little My tightened their grip on the rope, pulling as hard as they could. Soon, a tug-of-war was taking place; Martin and his friends pulling on one side, trying to save their friend, and the ant-lion trying to pull a struggling Moomintroll back down into his hole and eat him for breakfast.

"Let me go, you ugly head-in-the-mud, you...!"

The young Moomin frantically continued kicking and yelling rude names at the ant-lion, but it stubbornly refused to let go; but then Martin managed to get a clear shot and slammed his foot hard into the ant-lion's face. Contrast to Moomintroll, Martin was pretty strong, a part-time boxer, who'd train three times a week with Ulrich. Although not as big or as heavy as most boxers, he still had enough muscle power to send the ant-lion tumbling back down its hole with a smashed face, leaving Moomintroll free.

For a moment it seemed the worst was over, but then Sniff almost ruined everything by kneeling too far over the edge, losing his footing and went plummeting down the hole. Barely managing to cling onto the rope, now strained to breaking point from the added weight, he began thrashing madly about in a panic, screaming.

"Help! Don't let me fall! I don't want to die! Help...!"

"Stop squirming about, you idiot!" shouted Martin, "You'll take us all down!" But Sniff, thinking he was about to die, wasn't listening. With Snufkin and Snorkmaiden stuck and quickly tiring up top, unable to pull them all up, and with the ant-lion recovering and about to make another run below them, things weren't looking good at all. Martin thought desperately for a solution.

"All right, Moomintroll, you have to climb over me," he said, "Come on, buddy, you can do it!" Moomintroll scampered up over his shoulders and Snorkmaiden was able to pull him out. Martin followed, albeit with much greater difficulty because of his greater weight, and, working together, they finally pulled the semi-hysteric Sniff to safety too. At the bottom of the pit, the ant-lion, furious at having lost its meal, disappeared into the ground with a snarl. They all collapsed to the ground, exhausted and out of breath.

"Well, strike me pink!" Moomintroll exclaimed, staring back down the hole, "For a moment I thought I was a goner!" Beside him, Snorkmaiden lovingly embraced him, overjoyed of his rescue.

"Oh, Moomintroll, thank the Booble you're safe!" She kissed him on the cheek, causing him to blush, "Are you hurt?"

"No, I don't think so, Snorkmaiden," muttered Moomintroll shakily, nursing his tail where the ant-lion had bit him, "Oh, look at my tail...!" The Snorkmaiden gasped.

"Oh, Moomintroll, look what that wretched creature did to you!"

It wasn't a pretty sight; the tail was badly gnawed, the usually neat brush on the end completely pulled out, leaving just hairless, raw skin. Although it didn't seem like much of an injury, for a Moomin to lose his brushy tail-tip was a real humiliating situation, much like a girl losing her hair. Moomintroll was very upset.

"Oh my, you're going to be quite a sight going outside with your tail looking like that," squeaked Little My, clearly not helping things by trying to be funny, "Maybe you should disguise it by tying on a bunch of flowers!" Sniff, despite feeling sorry for his friend, had to fight back a snort at the thought of it. Martin thought Little My's sense of humour was real bad taste. Moomintroll looked like he was about to cry.

"It's all right, we'll take you back to Moominhouse," said Snufkin encouragingly to his friend, "Moominmama will have something for it." It took a long time to persuade Moomintroll to come back with them. They made their way back down the mountain in much lower spirits than before.

Moominmama looked at her son's ruined tail in dismay, "Oh, my poor Moomintroll," she said, trying to comfort him. The others were gathered around Moomintroll, fretting about their friend's health. Would he be all right? Maybe Moominmama couldn't heal his injured tail?

"Is his tail going to...fall off or something?" asked Sniff, fearing the worst. Moomintroll and the others all gasped in alarm. But Moominmama calmed them.

"It's going to be all right, dear," she said to her son, "I'll brew one of Grandma Moomin's remedy potions and it'll grow back in no time. You'll see." This seemed to cheer Moomintroll up somewhat; even more so when the Snorkmaiden added, "Don't worry; I still love you, with or without your tail." The two of them lovingly embraced. Moomintroll then shifted his gaze over to Martin, muttering shyly.

"Thank you for saving me, Martin."

In the midst of all this excitement, they had all completely forgotten about Martin; but now that they knew Moomintroll was going to be all right, everyone's attention shifted over to the hero of the day, whose efforts had prevented this mishap from turning into a serious accident. Martin tenderly stroked the young Moomin's head.

"You're welcome, little buddy."

"I've never seen anything so brave in my entire life," said the Snorkmaiden with awe, still swooning at the memory of Martin jumping into the ant-lion's pit without fear to help Moomintroll. First he'd saved her from drowning; and now he'd pulled her beloved Moomintroll out of the jaws of that ant-lion. She couldn't thank him enough – none of them could.

"We all helped," said Sniff, trying to get some of the credit. Little My rolled her eyes, " _You_? You were hanging over the edge, screaming for your life, you big wimp!" Sniff gave her a reproachful look for calling him a big wimp, although deep down he felt he probably deserved it. It was he who had accidentally chased Moomintroll into the ant-lion's hole in the first place and then almost ruined everything by falling in himself while trying to help. Moominmama pulled Martin into a tight hug.

"Thank you so much for helping our son today," she said, "My husband and I will never forget it."

"Yes, that was really brave of you, Martin," added Moominpapa, "If you hadn't been up there today, Moomintroll could have been seriously hurt. You really know how to help somebody in danger, son." Martin felt himself grow real uneasy as they all applauded him.

"It was nothing much really..."

Having had enough adventure for one day, they decided to take the rest of the day off. They all made themselves comfortable in the lounge at Moominhouse, keeping Moomintroll company, while Moominmama brewed up a concoction of herbs for his tail over in the kitchen. Martin had brought down his laptop and was showing his amazed friends its precious contents.

"...So, you see, that's how we computer geeks do our work," he said, showing them a digital model of a simple aircraft on an aeronautical engineer's program for simulating new aircraft designs. The Moomins, who had never seen anything remotely like this before, were absolutely gobsmacked.

"So this... _thing_ tells you whether your design will work before you start building it?" asked Moomintroll, looking utterly intrigued at the endless possibilities Martin's gadget offered; the opportunity of building a working flying ship, amongst other things, suddenly seemed limitless.

"My brother has to see this," said the Snorkmaiden excitedly, "With this, he can finally make his flying ship! Will you help him, Martin?" The Snork had been working on his flying ship for years but, despite his best efforts, so far he'd only come up with one failed test model after another. Maybe Martin could change that now.

On his part, although uncertain as to whether he could accomplish such a big project on his limited know-how, Martin still liked challenges and building a working, full-scale aircraft of his own, like the Wright brothers had done before him, seemed like the ultimate feat yet. It would certainly give him a whole new purpose in this world he was stuck in, perhaps for the rest of his life. So what was stopping him from seizing the opportunity?

"All right then, let's do it!" The Moomins all cheered.

At that moment, Moominmama came in, bringing a mug of some hot, steaming broth and a bowl of rubbing ointment, both made from the same remedial potion she'd looked up in her mother's old recipes. Martin caught a whiff of that stuff, which smelled awfully like a mixture of rancid manure and rotten eggs, making him glad he wasn't the one about to drink it. She passed the mug to her son.

"Drink this down, Moomintroll," she said, "All of it, now that it's still hot." Moomintroll complied, but winced at the off-putting taste of his mother's remedial concoction.

"Yuck, it tastes like ink!" Martin chuckled in amusement; Moomintroll pulled a face at him.

Moominmama then applied the ointment to her son's tail and bandaged it up. The bite wound was still pretty painful and Moomintroll winced under his mother's touch, but didn't complain; despite his young age, he was a strong boy. At last, it was set; now, all they could do was to wait and see whether the brush would grow back.

"You never know, Moomintroll; it might grow back in gold," Sniff teased him. Martin was willing to bet his laptop that Sniff would give anything to be in Moomintroll's place if his tail brush actually did grow back as solid gold, as unlikely a prospect as it was. However, currently, he had his own dream to think about.

Snorkmaiden was taking him to see her brother tomorrow, to see if he would agree to enlist his help in building his flying ship. Martin had no idea what kind of scientific principles the Snork used, or whether his own sophisticated designs would even be applicable in this place. In his way of thinking, there was a real fine line between fantasy and reality, something one couldn't possibly take for granted in this strange world. Still, it would be one exciting adventure for him and his friends and of his own making nonetheless – something that would also give him a real sense of purpose here. He simply couldn't pass on such a golden opportunity.

 **Author's note:** The events depicted in this chapter are a crossover of stories taken from both the 1990 and 1977 Moomin TV series. Coming up next, the flying ship starts construction. Enjoy and please review!


	5. Chapter 5 The Hattifatteners' Island

Martin had unpacked his laptop and set it up on Snork's desk. They were over at the Snorks' house, the day after their eventful excursion up to the Lonely Mountain. True to Moominmama's word, Moomin's injured tail was mending nicely, the fur already starting to grow back. Soon, he'd be able to take off that embarrassing bandage, much to his relief. He couldn't take anymore of Little My's constant teasing.

While Snorkmaiden hurried downstairs to bring them all glasses of raspberry juice, Martin powered up his laptop. The battery read just over half-full; by keeping it on minimum power mode, he figured he could extend its life for maybe another two hours tops. Although not an immediate problem, he would definitely need to find some solution for power and soon.

The Moomins all stared in amazement as the screen lit up, showing a blue schematic of a model aircraft produced in Martin's mother's shop, in this case a twelve-foot wingspan parasol glider. They watched the schematic as Martin run a simulation, demonstrating how it flew. They all gawped in wonder. So _this_ was what a real flying ship looked like?

Snork was eyeing the model curiously, not knowing what to make of it. He'd spent years trying to crack the physics of flying, using mostly birds as simulator models, but only coming up with failed prototypes that crashed the moment they left the ground. Now, there it was, all cut and dried right in front of his eyes. He couldn't help but feel a small twinge of envy; if this thing worked, then Martin would ultimately be getting the credit for discovering the key to flying, rather than him. But, on the other hand, he couldn't help but point out a few apparent flaws in the design.

"A flying ship without an engine?" he asked doubtfully, "How does it even stay up there if it doesn't flap its wings?" Martin tried hard not to laugh at Snork's ignorance. Because the tinkering inventor mistakenly copied birds' anatomy in his designs, rather than use proper aircraft aerodynamics, he'd been building flimsy duds that could supposedly be flown by a pilot continuously flapping the wings using gears and pedals – the main reason why his prototypes didn't work in the first place.

"Building a model plane isn't too difficult," he said, explaining how the aerodynamics of gliders worked, "Now, I believe we can modify the schematic by enhancing all the dimensions and adding larger aerofoil surfaces on the wings and tail, to convert it to full-scale, for carrying people. Should be easy enough...at least in theory."

"And suppose you make some mistake in your... _altered_ design?" asked Sniff, suppressing a shudder. The kangaroo-like troll was scared stiff of heights and the very idea of riding one of those weird contraptions up in the air gave him goosebumps. Snork however wasn't about to turn away a golden opportunity such as this.

"A true inventor doesn't allow risks to hinder progress," he said firmly, "I've come too far to give up now. I intend to see the first flying ship, or aeroplane, or whatever we choose to call it, finished and flying by next hibernation, or else die trying!"

"There's no need to talk like that, Snork!" Snorkmaiden chastised her brother as she entered with the drinks, utterly horrified by his tone of voice. Martin couldn't blame her; Snork was her only living relative after all, even if he was a real prat at times. But, in spite of the difficulties of this project, not to mention the risks, the Moomins always had a keen spirit for adventure.

"We'll all help you, Snork!" said Moomintroll excitedly. He turned to his friends, "Won't we, Snufkin?" Snufkin, who had been listening silently to Martin all this time, nodded as if he hadn't a care in the world.

"Well, I've always liked adventure," he said, "If there's good adventure in this then you can gladly count me in."

"Me, too," piped up Little My, "You idiots aren't going to commit suicide and leave me out of the fun!" Martin couldn't suppress a snort at Little My's black humour, in spite of himself.

"What about you, Snorkmaiden?"

Snorkmaiden at first seemed somewhat reluctant; although building a flying ship was nice to dream about, like Sniff, she dreaded the thought of something going terribly wrong if they tried it for real. But, catching Martin's encouraging stare, she finally nodded. Even since the teenager had come into her life, he definitely had her wrapped around his little finger.

"Hooray!"

"Then I guess it's, like we folks say back in England, full steam ahead!" said Martin, feeling really touched indeed. Now he had his team; and together, united by a common dream, they would attempt to realise it. However, this didn't stop it from presenting them with a whole bunch of problems they'd have to overcome first.

"The first step is for Snork and me to draw up a whole new design," he said, "This is where we have our first major setback: all the reference material we have to work with is in this computer; that and the simulator for testing our design before we start construction are essential, otherwise we'd only end up building elaborate winged piles of junk. In order for the computer to work, it needs electricity, which we don't have."

The Moomins looked at each other; electricity, although not unheard of, was an extremely rare commodity in Moominvalley and very hard to come by. The laptop's batteries were finite and there was no way of making them last long enough for them to build the glider. Even Snork, who'd experimented with electricity before, mostly improvised batteries rigged up from sliced lemons and some primitive light-bulbs, had no generator or any other reliable power source in his workshop. But, like every inventor worth his salt, he had brains.

"I think there might be a solution for electricity," he slowly said, scratching his temples, "Hattifatteners..."

A short while later, the group of friends found themselves taking a short stroll down to the beach. Although the others seemed to know where they were going and why, Martin was at a loss.

"What are these... _Hatti-fatteners_ , did you call them?"

"Hattifatteners are ancient and very wise creatures that follow the seasons around the world, just like I do," explained Snufkin, smiling at the thought of his only travel companions during his journeys south every winter. Just like the Hattifatteners, who were said to migrate south on boats of drifting leaves every autumn to escape the cold of winter, or the Moomins who hibernated, Snufkin never saw the ice and snow, preferring to live by spring all year round.

According to Snork, the Hattifatteners, which sprouted from seeds just like plants, were well-known electrical conductors, dangerous to the touch because of the powerful electric charge they carried in their bodies. Snork believed that if they could collect some Hattifattener seeds before the sprouted in the spring sunlight, they might be able to tap into their electricity. And, it just so happened, the best Hattifattener spouting ground for miles around was right here in Moominvalley.

Arriving on the edge of the cliff overlooking the sea, not far from where Martin had first met Snorkmaiden, Moomintroll pointed at a small island far out at sea. Once housing a lighthouse for passing merchant ships, the island was now deserted, except for its unique non-human inhabitants, which also gave the island its name.

"That's the Island of the Hattifatteners," said Moomintroll, "Papa said he used to visit it when he was young, to watch the Hattifatteners when they sprouted." But Martin was still extremely sceptical about whether those Hattifatteners could help them find the source of electricity he needed to recharge his dying computer. How he wished he'd paid more attention to Ulrich's recitations of Tove Jansson's books.

"So how do we get there?" he asked, "By boat?"

"There's no need," said Snufkin, "We can walk there easily when the tide's out." He pointed at the outline of a shadow just below the waterline, stretching out across the sea towards the island, which Martin recognised as a reef. Although currently underwater, when the tide was out every morning and evening, that reef formed a dry path across to the island, without them even having to even get their feet wet. It seemed they had a little excursion to make, their next grand adventure to pursue.

"We'll get a good night's sleep and make an early start tomorrow morning," Martin finally said, "I trust your parents won't have any problems with you going out there, Moomintroll?"

"Not at all," replied the young Moomin excitedly, "Mama always says no harm can come to us, as long as we're all together. Besides, you saved my life, Martin; I trust you to look after us."

"Me too," said the Snorkmaiden, taking his hand, "You're my hero, Martin!" Martin felt himself blushing with embarrassment. Someone however, seemed determined to spoil the moment.

"Excuse me, _you_ are not going out there, little sister," said Snork, always over-protective of his baby sister, when he wasn't too preoccupied with his inventions that is, "I've already nearly lost you once. These kind of dangerous adventures are not for silly, headstrong girls and you should know better!"

"I can take care of myself, thank you very much, Snork!" retorted the Snorkmaiden reproachfully, "I'm not a baby anymore!" Despite her shy, timid nature, Snorkmaiden wasn't the kind of girl to take 'no' for an answer, least of all from her pompous, domineering big brother. They all went to bed that night, eagerly looking forward to their upcoming adventure.

The next morning, everyone was up and about very early, getting ready, as not to miss the morning low tide. Moominmama had packed them a king-sized picnic basket for their excursion – the only part of this escapade that the grumpy and sleepy Sniff was looking forward to. Martin had emptied his rucksack of all his delicate belongings and filled it with some empty jars from Moominmama's kitchen for storing the Hattifattener seeds in, keeping only his pocketknife and pen-flashlight, which he might need. By eight o'clock, they were ready.

"Look after yourselves, children," said Moominmama, taking a handkerchief out of her handbag to wave them off as they walked out the door, "And make sure to be back by dinner time. I'm making your favourite pumpkin soufflé tonight, Moomintroll!" Moomintroll licked his lips at the thought of it.

"Remember, the next low tide is at six o'clock this afternoon," Moominpapa called, "Make sure you keep close track of time, or you'll miss it. The Hattifatteners sprouting ground is right in the centre of the island, close to the old lighthouse. You can't miss it." Promising they would be careful, like a group of Boys' Scouts, the group of youngsters, consisting of Martin, Moomintroll, Sniff, Little My and Snufkin left Moominhouse, heading towards the coast.

Making their way down to the beach, they were surprised to find none other than Snorkmaiden, who had arrived to join them on their expedition to the Hattifatteners' Island. The Snork, who enjoyed keeping busy in his workshop rather than going out on adventures, had chosen to stay at home, to begin work on a container box they'd need for the Hattifatteners they'd be bringing back.

"But didn't your brother say you aren't supposed to come, Snorkmaiden?" asked Moomintroll in surprise. Snorkmaiden rolled her eyes incredulously.

"Big brothers! They always think they can tell you what to do! What, you really think I'd listen to him? I left him a note on the table, explaining where I'm going, along with his lunch." Martin and Moomintroll looked at each other impressed. Their friend Snorkmaiden sure had spunk. "So, shall we get started then?"

With Martin in the lead, they made their way along the reef, now partially above water, towards the island. The rocks were slimy and slippery and the spray of the sea kept splashing over them all the way across. Sniff in particular, who hated water, whimpered and skittered with every step, screaming hysterically that he was going to be swept into the sea and drown every time a wave came splashing onto the rocks. Although he was a nice fellow, as far as courage went, Martin thought he looked pathetic, but decided to keep it to himself.

The Hattifatteners' Island wasn't particularly big; only about half a mile in circumference, it was surrounded by rocky beaches that joined the reef, with a small patch of dense wood in the centre. And, perched atop a small rocky hill on the northern side of the island looking out to sea, was the derelict lighthouse – a sad reminder of the old trading post that used to operate in Moominvalley long ago when Moominpapa was still a boy. Martin had heard his story, how he'd run away from an orphanage run by a strict Hemulen headmistress (coincidently, a great-aunt of their neighbour Mr Hemulen) and gone off to sea looking for adventure.

He and his friends Captain Hodgkin, a merchant seaman, Joxter, a tinkerer and Snufkin's father whom the latter had never met, and Muddler, Sniff's late father who had drowned at sea along with his wife Fuzzy when their son was still a baby, along with a group of other settlers, including the Mymbles (Little My's family), the Fillyjonks and the Hemulens had started a colony here. After meeting another female Moomin, a castaway whom he'd rescued from the sea and would later become his wife, Moominpapa had retired from the sea and settled down in what became known as Moominvalley, and started a family.

The six friends stared around at the small, desert island. Unlike the mainland coastline on the other side where Moominvalley was, this place was utterly deserted and uninhabited, making it real unsettling indeed. Sniff, always a scaredy cat, looked around nervously.

"You think something... _bad_ might be lingering about in this place?" he asked, jumping at the sound of some gulls taking flight from some nearby rocks.

"Of course there is, stupid," squeaked Little My, not missing the opportunity to take the mickey out of him, "Cannibals waiting to cook you in a pot, giant monsters with scaly bodies and big teeth...!" Sniff gulped nervously at the thought of meeting such horrors, sweat trickling down his forehead. Snorkmaiden gasped.

"Little My, please stop it, you're scaring me!"

"I...I don't think I want to come anymore," muttered Sniff, now looking really scared, slowly turning to make his way back to the reef and get off this island, only to discover the tide was coming in. The waves of the rising sea had already covered the submerged reef, making returning to the mainland impossible for the next twelve hours.

"We're stranded here!" he whimpered, his lip quivering with fear, "Oh, what are we going to do?"

"Come on, Sniff, where is your spirit of adventure? We've only just got here," said Moomintroll, who seemed perfectly calm. After all, what was there to be afraid of out here?

"All right, chaps, we haven't got all day," said Martin, "Let's make for the lighthouse first. We can leave our stuff there and then go look for the Hattifatteners."

Scampering up the slippery rocks, they made their way along an overgrown path to the old lighthouse. Although still standing, the structure was extremely old and weather-worn, the glass windows on the top from where the lamp shone through all broken and dark. No lighthouse keeper had lived here in a long time.

Martin tried the door; although unlocked, the hinges were rusted from the salty sea air, the wooden frame badly deformed from the humidity, jamming it shut. After several tries of pounding and kicking, it finally creaked open. An eerie darkness, overrun by dust and cobwebs that covered every surface met their eyes inside. Martin lit his pen-flashlight and they entered the lighthouse, looking around curiously.

The ground floor looked like it had been some sort of kitchen, where the long-gone lighthouse keeper enjoyed what few comforts his solitary life offered him. An old ship's cooking stove, a badly worn table that had been overturned over the years, some broken chairs and a dresser filled with tin kitchen utensils were all the furnishings there were. Nothing of particular interest. The Moomins recoiled as they looked around the gloomy lighthouse.

"This place gives me the creeps," muttered Sniff, feeling goosebumps going down his spine at this eerie darkness, "I wonder what happened to the lighthouse keeper?"

"Good question," said Snufkin, who was examining the contents of the old dresser. He opened up a jar that supposedly contained toffee apples, but only an infestation of black spiders came crawling out onto his hands. He dropped the jar in disgust. Behind him, Sniff recoiled at the sight of all those spiders crawling across the floor. "Why would he leave?"

"Something's terrible happened to him," said Little My, always the dramatic type. Snorkmaiden, probably picturing any number of terrible accidents that might have befallen the vanished lighthouse keeper, with no one around to help him, was absolutely horrified.

"Please, Little My! You know I hate hearing about such horrible things!" Unfortunately, Little My, as usual, wasn't finished yet, always saving the best part for last.

"The lighthouse keeper is probably still here; he got scurvy and died all alone in his bed," she said, "He'll be somewhere upstairs, probably a rotting and smelly skeleton sitting in an armchair, with rats gnawing away at his bones, slimy maggots crawling in and out of his toothless mouth...!" Snorkmaiden screamed in horror and covered her ears. Sniff turned milk-white, recoiling with horror.

"Shut up, Little My!" yelled Moomintroll angrily, "You're scaring poor Snorkmaiden!"

"Don't listen to her, Snorkmaiden," said Martin, tenderly stroking the trembling she-Snork's blond fringe, "She's just being an idiot."

"Hey, I'm not an idiot!" screeched Little My incredulously, but at least she got the message and didn't continue with her horrifying dramatics. Martin and the others ignored her.

"Shall we search upstairs then?" suggested Snufkin. Although slightly unnerved at the thought of what they might find up there, the Moomins were still no cowards. With Martin lighting the way with his pen-flashlight, they mounted the rotary staircase, making their way up to the first landing.

Upstairs, they found a cramped bedroom, looking just as dusty and cobweb-infested as the kitchen. A mouldy bed, an old sea-chest and a few long extinguished dusty kerosene lamps, nothing of particular interest. A second rotary staircase led upstairs to the lamp room on the top of the lighthouse. As Martin shone his flashlight around the dark room, he noticed something that made them all gasp. On the bed, beneath a dirty, moth-eaten blanket, lay something covered up. They'd found the lighthouse keeper's dead body!

Snorkmaiden gasped and looked away, burying her face into Moomintroll's arms, sobbing; Snufkin took off his hat in silent respect for the dead; Little My gave them all a didn't-I-tell-you look at the sight of the covered-up body, waiting alone for years now to be given a proper burial. Martin approached the bed.

"Go on, Martin, uncover him!" she said excitedly, "Let's see just how juicy and maggoty he looks! Bet he smells bad too!"

"Little My, stop being so mean!" said Snufkin reproachfully, "Martin, leave the poor lighthouse keeper in peace. Martin...?" But Martin had already pulled the blanket back from the face. For an instant he was speechless; then he burst out laughing. His friends were stunned at his attitude.

"Whatever has gotten into you, Martin?"

Martin pulled the blanket away, revealing the occupant of the bed; and it wasn't the corpse of the lighthouse keeper at all. It was the wooden figurehead of an old ship lying on the mattress. Although very old, it was an excellent piece of painted woodwork, featuring a stunning young woman with long brown hair and high eyelashes. The Moomins gathered around, staring in awe at the figurehead. Moomintroll, Martin noticed, seemed almost mesmerised at the sight of her. Snorkmaiden noticed this and frowned.

"Why are you staring at that wooden doll like that, Moomintroll?" she asked. Although a gentle-hearted and loving creature, she'd get jealous very easily. A lovesick Moomintroll slowly turned to look at her.

"Excuse me, what did you say, Snorkmaiden?"

Snorkmaiden narrowed her eyes crossly, "I said, why do you keep staring at this stupid figurehead?" Moomintroll blushed scarlet, unable to find the right words to answer her.

"Her eyes are so beautiful..." he stammered, "I mean, I..." Snorkmaiden looked very hurt.

"Ha! Sissy stuff!" scoffed Little My in disgust, pulling a face at Moomintroll, "She doesn't even have legs!" Seeing an imminent conflict about to break out between Moomintroll and Snorkmaiden, with the former bound to come off worst of all, Martin hastily covered up the figurehead again. They resumed exploring.

Ascending to the very top of the lighthouse, they entered the lamp-room, which housed the massive propane-powered lamp used to warn ships away from the dangerous coastline. Martin, who had a keen eye for engineering, couldn't resist examining the machine, as he traced valves and hoses, feeling himself struck by an odd sense of inspiration usually reserved for poets. Although seriously antiquated compared to the advanced electrical technology of his own world, it was still a remarkable feat of engineering for its time.

"Oh, great, there's another one," squeaked Little My, noticing Martin, almost lovingly, caressing the dusty machinery, "Moomintroll's in love with a stupid figurehead; and now Martin is in love with a lighthouse lamp!" She blew a raspberry at him. Moomintroll and Snorkmaiden both gave Little My dirty looks for her remarks.

Sometime later, after leaving their picnic basket and rucksacks at the lighthouse, they made their way towards the centre of the island, where Moominpapa had told Moomintroll the Hattifatteners' sprouting ground was located. There, they came to a clearing but, as far as Martin could see, there was nothing but trees and grass. Then Snufkin pointed at some peculiar small, shiny balls lying scattered in the shadows at the foot of trees, which, from afar, resembled beads. Picking one up for a closer look, Martin realised it wasn't beads at all, but _seeds_ , unlike anything he'd ever seen before, but definitely biological in origin.

"So _these_ are Hattifattener seeds?" he asked. They sure didn't look all that impressive to him, "But what good are these things to us?"

To demonstrate better, Snufkin took one and tossed it into a patch of sunlight. For a moment, nothing happened; then Martin saw the seed glow an electric blue as it started twitching. He watched in amazement as it burst, morphing into a strange, ghostly-like creature resembling a salami with bulging eyes and finger-like projections on either side of its long body. The thing seemed to walk upright on the tip of its lower end, as it moved about in circles like a child's electronic toy.

As Martin curiously reached out to touch it, he was jolted back by a powerful surge of electric current shooting up his arm – nowhere near as powerful as the lightning strike back in Helsinki, but enough to make him cry out in pain. Groaning, he sucked his singed fingertips. The Hattifattener, spooked at being touched, turned and disappeared into the trees.

"Blimey, these things have more juice in them than a bloody Taser!" he gasped, finally realising the great potential in these strange creatures: Like solar cells, the Hattifatteners sprouted by harnessing energy from the sun, with which they produced electricity – clean, totally renewable energy, with which they could improvise some sort of generator or power supply to recharge his computer's dying batteries.

Having found what they came here for, the group set about gathering as many Hattifattener seeds as they could. Moominmama had provided them with several glass jars from her pantry painted black, to transport the seeds in without them sprouting on their way back.

For the next few hours, they combed the island, collecting all the Hattifattener seeds they could carry. By lunchtime, they had a dozen jars full of healthy seeds in their backpacks, waiting to see the light and sprout, enough to start their own Hattifattener plantation.

Having acquired their prize and with a few hours still to go till the afternoon tide, they decided to stop and have their picnic. Snorkmaiden had found a beautiful spot on the edge of a cliff overlooking the sea, where they could eat. Spreading out a tablecloth on the grass, she arranged the dishes, while the boys and Little My unpacked the food. As for Sniff, who was likely to start pigging out before they were all ready, she'd asked him to go find some flowers for the lunch table.

Feeling his appetite growing, Martin turned to look at the horizon. Although the sky was clear, he was unnerved to see some dark, storm clouds far out at sea, slowly approaching the mainland. It seemed like they were in for some heavy weather tonight. Although no meteorologist, he was fairly positive the storm wouldn't hit until nightfall, by which time they'd be safely back in Moominhouse...or so he hoped. Too bad there wasn't any radio or TV networks in this world to get a proper weather forecast when you needed it. Perhaps they were pushing their luck a bit too far?

"Are you all right, Martin?" asked Snorkmaiden, noticing his worried expression, "What's wrong?"

"Eh, nothing, Snorkmaiden," he said, taking his attention away from the sea, figuring there was no point worrying about problems that couldn't be helped. There wasn't much they could do about it anyway, at least not until the tide turned, so there was no point spoiling their picnic by filling everyone's heads with worry.

As they settled down to eat, they suddenly noticed Sniff hadn't returned yet. That was a good enough a reason to worry them, because their friend was always first to arrive at the table and the last to leave. What was keeping him?

"Sniff?" called Moomintroll, looking frantically around, "Has anyone seen Sniff?" But Sniff was nowhere to be seen.

"Sniff! Sniff, where are you?" called Snorkmaiden, looking very worried, "Please, answer me!" Then, they heard the scream.

"Help!"

"Come on!" With Martin in the lead, they followed Sniff's cries until they came to the edge of a deep hole, which Martin recognised as a sink-hole. Looking down, they saw it was pitch-dark, leading a long way down into some cave. Poor Sniff must not have been looking where he was going and had fallen down the hole. From the darkness below, they could hear the sloshing of water, which was the sea that flowed in through there. Snorkmaiden gasped; they all knew that Sniff couldn't swim and if that water down there was too deep, he was a goner.

"Sniff! Sniff, can you hear us?" called Snufkin, looking over the edge of the hole. There was no answer. Perhaps he had already drowned? But, much to everyone's relief, that was not to be the case, when at last they heard Sniff's terrified cries again.

"Help, I'm down here! I can't get out!"

Martin shone his pen-flashlight down the hole. The small pool of light shone upon the terrified kangaroo-like troll lying huddled on the bottom, up to his waist in water, which had cushioned his fall. Although luckily not deep, Martin could tell it was definitely seawater, which meant it would rise when the tide came and drown him for sure. Sniff looked up at them with pleading eyes. It was obvious he was absolutely terrified.

"Are you hurt?"

"No, but I can't get out. Please, help me!"

"Hold on, buddy, we're coming down there to get you!" called Martin. It soon became apparent that rescuing Sniff was going to be a lot trickier than they thought. The walls of the hole were too steep to climb down and they had no rope. But Martin had a good idea.

"That seawater down there must come in and out from somewhere," he said, "There must be a passage through to the beach. We can get in from there. Let's go!"

Leaving Snorkmaiden and Little My to keep talking to Sniff, to keep him calm, the boys made their way down to the beach. They circled the island along the shore, looking for any sign of a cave entrance that might join the sink hole. On the way, they discovered parts of an old shipwreck, some chunks of the shattered keel and a few loose spars, no doubt of a ship that had been bashed to pieces on the reef years ago, that had washed up on the shore, lying half-buried in the sand. No doubt this was where the lighthouse keeper had found that figurehead. But this wasn't the time to be examining old flotsam, not with their friend still in trouble.

At last, they found an opening, or more precisely a narrow slit in the side of the cliff, leading down into a cave in the bowels of the island. Martin took out his pen-flashlight and lit it, and they entered the cave. The passage was a tight squeeze getting through, especially for Moomintroll, who, like every Moomin, was chubby and not built for crawling through narrow places. With Martin pulling him and Snufkin pushing on his backside, they managed to squeeze him along.

"Don't you get stuck now," said Martin, "You'll trap us both in here!" Finally, they came to a cavern, half-flooded with seawater. A small patch of sunlight coming from a hole high up on the cavern roof made them realise this had to be the bottom of the sinkhole. A groaning Moomintroll emerged behind Martin, nursing all the painful scrapes and grazes he had sustained going through that narrow passage.

"When we get home, I'm going on a diet!"

"Wise decision, little buddy," said Martin, chuckling, "Now, where's Sniff gotten to?"

Wading through knee-deep water, Martin muttering furiously about ruining his new shoes, they searched the cavern. But Sniff was nowhere to be seen. If he had wondered off in this darkness, looking for a way out on his own, they'd never find him. Perhaps he'd just passed out? Or was he badly injured?

Suddenly, glancing into an alcove in the wall of the cavern, through the light of Martin's flashlight, they saw Sniff, his back turned to them, looking at something. He didn't seem to be injured, so why didn't he answer them? They hurried up to him.

"Are you all right, Sniff?" But Sniff still didn't answer them and instead kept staring at something sitting on a rock at his feet. Looking down, they saw a strange metal box with a heavy lock on it. Apparently afraid that the tide might come back in before they could rescue him, he'd been desperately trying to find his own way out, only to stumble across this, "What have you found there?"

Snorkmaiden and Little My were waiting for them at the cave entrance. Snorkmaiden was fretting nervously, thinking something might have happened to them, but was overjoyed when the smiling face of Martin emerged, followed by Moomintroll, Snufkin, and a shaken but otherwise unharmed and strangely ecstatic Sniff. She rushed over to embrace them.

"Thank the Booble you're all safe!" she exclaimed, overjoyed of their safe return, "But what have you got there, Sniff?" she asked, noticing the heavy box he and Snufkin were carrying between them. Sniff looked like his birthday had come early.

"I think we found a lost pirates' treasure chest, Snorkmaiden!"

They placed the box on a rock and tried to open it. It was locked. Rather than being made of wood, the thing was made of robust steel, like the kind often used by bank couriers for transporting cashes of money around. There was no hope of smashing it open with a rock. But Martin, who had been examining the lock, smiled and took out his pocketknife. He got to work, picking the lock open.

"I wonder what's in it," said Snufkin.

"I'd say it's a priceless treasure," said Sniff, rubbing his hands excitedly, "Gold coins, maybe some jewels too..."

"Or maybe some beautiful dresses or something nice to eat," said Snorkmaiden, thinking of her own dream things.

"Or perhaps just some sailor's dirty socks and underwear," said Martin, who didn't think the box felt heavy enough to contain treasure, "Come on...Aha, got it!" At last, the lock clicked open and they lifted open the lid.

"What is this?"

Inside the box were a collection of interesting objects, including pocket watches, coins, ladies' purses, odd pieces of silverware, silk handkerchiefs, tobacco cases, amongst other goods people often carried in their pockets. Some of the objects weren't of any particular value, but others were valuable pieces, bearing jewellers' mintmarks. Although not exactly a pirate's treasure, the contents of the box could definitely put a pretty penny or two in their pockets.

"I wonder whom does this stuff belong to," wondered Snufkin, examining some of the pocket watches.

"Who cares? Finders keepers," said Sniff, sorting through the contents of the box, looking for the most valuable pieces, "We can sell them and share the money!"

Snorkmaiden was going through the jumble of stuff, pulling out a beautiful pearl necklace. As she tried it on, Martin, who happened to glance at it, frowned, "Say, have I seen that somewhere before?" Looking at the necklace, Snorkmaiden suddenly recognised it too.

"Mrs Fillyjonk's necklace!" she gasped, recognising the very same piece of jewellery for which Martin had almost been accused of stealing the day they'd first met, "But how did it get here?"

"Stinky!" they all said in unison. It seemed they'd stumbled across the smelly little thief's secret loot trove. What better place to hide his stolen goods rather than on this desert island, which was scarcely ever visited?

"I think the Inspector will be interested in seeing this box," said Snufkin, "We'll take it back with us." Sniff looked terribly disappointed.

"Does this mean we won't be keeping it for ourselves?"

"No, Sniff," said Moomintroll sternly, "This is stolen property; and we aren't thieves!"

With Sniff safely rescued, they made their way back to their picnic – or rather where their picnic had been only minutes ago.

"What a mess!" gasped Snorkmaiden, staring at the sight of total devastation; the picnic basket had been turned inside-out, all of the food gone, devoured it seemed by someone or something. Their rucksacks had also been taken, no doubt by the same culprit. "Who could have done this? There's no one else here but us..." Sniff, always the superstitious sort, recoiled with fear. Invisible thieves stealing their food and belongings wasn't something he liked to hear.

"You don't think this island is...haunted? Maybe it's the lighthouse keeper's ghost?" he stammered, jumping at every little sound, probably thinking there might be a ghost lurking behind every tree. But Martin, who was examining a half-eaten biscuit lying on the ground, didn't think it was a ghost; a notion that turned out to be perfectly true when at that moment they heard a familiar cackle coming from some nearby bushes.

Pushing through the bushes, they found the culprit: the smelly, mean-spirited imp called Stinky, whom Martin had met on his first day in Moominvalley and which he'd taken a general disliking to. The sly little thief sat on a rock, pawing through the contents of Martin's rucksack, which lay scattered all over the place as he pulled them out, looking for any valuables to steal. Martin cleared his throat, catching the little miscreant's attention. Stinky turned to look at them with his mean, beady eyes, grinning at them behind his rotting, yellowed teeth.

"Well, well, well, what a surprise to see you all here. Having a nice picnic then?"

"Not anymore, thanks to you, Stinky!" retorted Moomintroll angrily, furious at him for stealing their food and consequently ruining their picnic.

"Shame on you, Stinky!" shouted Snufkin, "That's stealing!"

"That's what it means being a good thief!" cackled the little imp nastily, but Martin, was wasn't in the mood to hear any more of his trash talk, cut him off.

"Give me back my bag right now, Stinky!"

"Not after I've finished looking through it," said the little thief shamelessly, pulling out a jar of Hattifattener seeds. He shook it against his ear, hearing the seeds rattling around inside, "What do you want with all these useless seeds anyway?" Martin, losing patience, began to advance.

"I said, give it back right now, or I'm going to beat the stuffing out of you... Look out!" Whether it was intentional or just an instinctual reflex born out of fear, Martin didn't know, but at that moment Stinky hurled the jar of Hattifatteners' seeds right at his face. Martin ducked just in time, avoiding the flying jar, which instead found its mark on Snorkmaiden's head, who happened to be standing right behind him.

Snorkmaiden screamed in pain as the jar shattered on her forehead, scattering its contents everywhere. In an instant, the damage was done. The Hattifattener seeds, exposed directly to the afternoon sun, instantly sprouted in a wild domino effect. A few that had been become lodged in Snorkmaiden's hair when the jar shattered also sprouted, leaving her with several live Hattifatteners perched on her head.

There was a sickening buzzing sound and then Snorkmaiden was screaming in agony, thrashing about madly on the ground in spasms as the Hattifatteners electrocuted her. Then she passed out. The appalling smell of burnt fur and hair filled the air. All around, the rest of the Hattifatteners, already numbering several dozens and multiplying, began to swarm them.

"Run!"

Martin and Moomintroll grabbed the unconscious Snorkmaiden and, carrying her between them, they all bolted for their only refuge: the lighthouse. All except Stinky. Before he could come to his senses and run, he found himself surrounded by the Hattifatteners, who swarmed him like angry hornets.

Martin and his group barely made it up to the lighthouse, with the Hattifatteners in hot pursuit. They all pilled in and Snufkin slammed the door shut and drew the dead-bolt in place, barricading them inside. Outside, they heard electrical sparking and buzzing as the Hattifatteners tried to force their way in, their electrified bodies sparking the metal doorknob and hinges of the door. Outside, they heard the agonising screams of Stinky.

"Serves him right, the thieving little slimeball," muttered Little My darkly, not feeling the least forgiving. That sneaky little creep definitely had it coming. But they didn't have time to think about Stinky now, as they turned their attention back to Snorkmaiden.

The poor girl's once-golden fringe was singed to an ugly charcoal-black from the Hattifatteners' electrified touch, exposing the ugly bump underneath, where the jar had struck her, but otherwise she didn't seem to be badly hurt. Martin felt his anger rise; when he got his hands on that Stinky, he'd ring the little miscreant's neck!

"Snorkmaiden? Snorkmaiden, can you hear us? Wake up!" With Martin gently shaking her, she finally came to. She groaned in pain, nursing the bump on her head. "Are you all right?"

"Just a bit of shock, that's all," she murmured, cringing as she picked up the sickening smell of burnt hair, which was her own ruined fringe, "What's that awful smell?" Nobody dared answer her, not even Little My. She'd be so devastated when she found out. Finally, Moomintroll spoke.

"Snorkmaiden, it...it's your hair..." Snorkmaiden was absolutely horrified.

"My hair?! What's happened to it?" She frantically felt her fringe and traced the strands of scorched hair. Horrified, she looked around for anything she could use as a mirror. The bottom of a metal wash-plate sitting upright on a chair offered a clear enough reflection of her head. Seeing her hideous disfigurement, she wailed.

"Look at me! It's horrible!" She burst into tears, crying her heart out. Martin pitied her so much; he knew all too well how Snorkmaiden took pride in her beauty and to discover that her hair had been burned off, perhaps with no way to grow back, had to be a terrible situation for her. Moomintroll knelt beside her and took her hand.

"Don't worry, Snorkmaiden," he told her soothingly, wiping the tears from her eyes, "I still love you, with or without your hair." He blushed slightly, realising what he'd just said. That seemed to cheer Snorkmaiden up somewhat. Her previous anger for him swooning over that figurehead seemed like a lifetime ago. She embraced him, sobbing into his shoulder.

Leaving Snorkmaiden in Moomintroll's care, Martin turned to look out a dusty window, where Snufkin was looking. Outside, the Hattifatteners had surrounded the lighthouse, waiting for them to come out. They were trapped. Although they'd be safe in here for a while, his greatest concern was the approaching storm. If the Hattifatteners hadn't gone by the next low tide, so they could make it down to the beach and back to the mainland, they'd be stranded here in the middle of a heavy storm.

Looking out towards the horizon, he saw the storm front had changed course and was coming straight for them. At this rate, it would hit much sooner than previously thought. And they were trapped in this derelict lighthouse, surrounded by a swarm of electrified creatures, waiting to fry them, and with a bad storm descending upon them. This time, they were in serious trouble.

 **Author's note:** My apologies for the long delay, but I've been busy lately. For reference, this chapter is compiled from plotlines taken from the 1990 TV series episodes the Hattifatteners' Island and the Lighthouse Lights Up. Enjoy and please review!


	6. Chapter 6 The Lighthouse Lights Up

Moominmama stood over by the living room window at Moominhouse, worried sick for her son and his friends. It was nearly nightfall and still no sign of them. What was taking them so long? Maybe something had happened to them? The approaching storm on the horizon didn't ease her worrying in the slightest. Moominpapa placed a comforting hand on her shoulder.

"It's going to be all right, my dear," he said, "Moomintroll is a smart Moomin; he can look after himself. I'm sure they'll be back soon." However, his words were of little consolation to Moominmama. Moomintroll had never been out this late before and certainly not in a storm. They were in trouble, she could feel it. Noticing his wife's distress, Moominpapa sighed.

"All right, I'll go down to the beach and find out what's going on." Grabbing his top-hat, he hurried out the door.

The interior of the lighthouse was turning an eerie dark from the setting sun. True to Moominmama's fears, the expedition group to the Hattifatteners' Island had indeed run into big trouble, finding themselves trapped inside the derelict lighthouse, surrounded by a swarm of angry Hattifatteners and with no way of getting off the island before the storm hit. But, like Moominpapa had said, Moomin and his friends weren't just sitting idly, waiting to be rescued.

Leaving Snorkmaiden in Sniff's care, Martin, Moomintroll, Snufkin and Little My had climbed to the top of the lighthouse, where the large signal-lamp was housed. The lamp was of course out of order, left disused for a long time, but still in good shape. That had given Martin a clever idea: they would use the lighthouse lamp to signal the mainland for help. That depended, of course, on whether they could repair it.

Using a box of some old, rusty tools they'd found around the lighthouse, Martin had been down on his knees for the past few hours, working on the dusty, cobweb-lined interior of a panel they'd forced open on the base of the lamp. Snufkin held his pen-flashlight for him so he could see, while Moomintroll passed him the tools. Little My just strode impatiently to and fro, kicking a loose nut around, getting on their nerves.

The works inside the lamp mechanism were a maze of gas valves, pipes, cables and gears, making it very difficult to tell what was what. With only the limited expertise of an engineering student and with little knowledge of such archaic machinery, Martin could do little more than clean out all the dust and cobwebs with a rag, tighten any loose gas valves, and grease the jammed gears with some old cooking oil they'd found in the lighthouse keeper's kitchen. Not exactly a professional restoration job, but at least it just might get the lamp to light up again.

"How much longer, Martin?" asked Moomintroll, staring out the cracked windows at the approaching storm, coming in from the sea. Rain droplets were already beginning to fall against the glass and the sky was quickly turning a darkish grey. Within another hour or so, it would escalate into a full-force gale. Although he was doing his best to stay calm, Martin could tell he was really scared. They all were. He smiled at the young Moomin.

"Almost done. Pass me the screwdriver, will you?" Tightening the last screw into place and making sure everything was put back together properly, he closed up the panel. The lamp head now gleamed, looking almost good as new. But would it work?

"What happens if we can't get it to work?"

Martin didn't even bother answering Moomintroll. The old lighthouse would offer them little shelter with its broken windows and leaky roof; even the cave where Sniff had found Stinky's box of stolen trinkets would be no good to them because it was no doubt flooded from the tide by now. The lighthouse lamp was their only hope.

Martin turned to the propane tanks that lit up the lamp and turned a valve. A pressure gauge on the tank rose to about a quarter full. A hissing noise told him propane was being fed through the hose and into the lamp. Now, all he needed was a single spark from the starter and they'd have a bright light that could be seen for miles around.

Motioning to the others to stand back, Martin grasped the starter handle. Then, he pulled it hard. The lamp didn't light. He tried it again and again. Nothing happened. The sparker was corroded after so many years of exposure to the salty sea air and couldn't produce a spark. Martin muttered a curse under his breath. Little My kicked the lamp in frustration, intent on smashing the old piece of junk to pieces, but only ended up hopping around in pain on one leg, nursing a bruised toe.

They returned downstairs to the kitchen, feeling terribly disappointed. Snorkmaiden was lying on some mouldy blankets they'd spread out on the floor, her burnt head wrapped in a makeshift headscarf they'd fashioned out of the tablecloth from their picnic, sparing her the shame of being seen with a scorched head. Sniff sat by her side, keeping her company. The pair looked up as the others came downstairs.

"Did the lamp work?" Moomintroll shook his head sadly. Snorkmaiden began to cry.

"We'll never get off this island now!" she wailed, "Nobody will ever know what happened to us! Oh, I'm so scared..." Moomintroll hurried over to comfort her. The others sat around the dark kitchen, their hopes of rescue shattered...all except Martin. He sat aside from the others, scratching his chin, thinking. They couldn't just give up now. The starter for the lighthouse lamp didn't work; so they simply had to...invent fire from scratch. Only question was, how?

He looked around the room; there was plenty of stuff here that could burn, but nothing that could produce flames or sparks. How he wished he were a smoker, like his father; then he might have been carrying some matches when he needed them. Moomintroll, Snorkmaiden and Sniff didn't have any either and he doubted anyone in their right mind would ever entrust Little My with a matchbox. Then, he suddenly remembered; Snufkin smoked a pipe that he carried around with him. He should have matches!

"Snufkin, I need your matches please."

Snufkin complied, but, reaching into his pocket, he couldn't find it. His pipe and tobacco case were still there all right, but not his matchbox. Feeling down the bottom in confusion, his hand came out through a gaping hole in the lining of his pocket. The matchbox must have fallen out without his noticing and now it was lost, when they needed it most. It seemed, this time, they were completely out of luck.

"I'm sorry, Martin..."

Martin forced himself to think. All right, so they didn't have matches. But mankind had been making fires without them for thousands of years, using any crude method imaginable. Surely, they could as well. Then, he remembered an old aviators' survival skill his father had taught him. Taking out his pocketknife, he opened up the toothed saw-blade – _steel_. One major component in fire-making he had handy. The other component however – flint – would be trickier to find.

Going through the drawers in the kitchen, he found nothing useful. A broken telescope on the mantelpiece caught his eye; he could use the lens to concentrate the sun's rays on some tinder and produce a flame. But then he remembered it was already dark outside and his plan of simply harnessing the sun's rays would be useless. Then, glancing at a part of the wall, where the plaster had cracked away from the salty humidity, Martin saw the lighthouse walls were built of beach pebbles mixed with cement – pebbles, a rich source of flint nodules, often used by castaways throughout history.

The Moomins watched curiously as Martin strode feverishly around the room, searching. Searching for what? What kind of brilliant plan had their friend come up with this time, they wondered.

Choosing a nice big flat stone he could use, Martin got to work chipping it out of the wall with his knife. After several minutes of hard chipping and two bloody fingernails to show for it, he managed to pry it out. With his friends' help, they gathered some dry wood-scraps, which they'd torn off the lighthouse keeper's furniture, and cut them into the thinnest toothpicks they could make, to use as tinder. Finally, all they needed was to test it out.

Placing his pile of tinder and flint on the hearth of the old fireplace, Martin tried it out. Holding the saw-blade of his pocketknife against the stone, he scrapped it lengthwise. That sent up a lovely shower of sparks in his face. It was working! Excited, he got to work, sending sparks onto the tinder until it lit up. Soon, he presented his friends with a small fire of burning woodchips on a piece of board. The Moomins all gasped with amazement. Then, they all began cheering.

"You did it! You did it, Martin!" cheered Moomintroll. Beside him, Snorkmaiden reached up and kissed the teenager on the cheek. Now, they had fire to light up the lighthouse lamp. But the rumbling sound of distant thunder from the approaching storm reminded them that they were quickly running out of time. Carrying the piece of board like a candle-stick, using his hand to shield the flame from the wind, Martin hurried back upstairs to the lamp-room.

Forcing the maintenance panel open again, he reached inside for the reaction chamber – a small airtight tube at the base of the lamp mirror, where the propane line and sparker met together, to produce the flame. Ripping out the now useless sparker from its socket, he made a small hole in the chamber, from where he could stick a burning match in. Lighting a thin strip of tinder, he turned the propane supply back on.

"All right, get back all of you!" he called over his shoulder, gesturing at his friends to move away. What he was about to do was to deliberately set fire to propane that was being vented freely in a closed space. A dangerous and foolhardy act, to say the least. The last thing he wanted was to have others around him when this bomb he was messing around with went _bang_ and blew him to kingdom come.

Covering his eyes with his forearm, he brought the burning stick towards the lamp. Nothing happened. Hand shaking, he wedged the burning stick inside the socket where the starter originally was. _Come on, you piece of junk..._

WHOOSH!

A big ball of fire suddenly engulfed the whole room. The force of the blast sent Martin flying backwards and tumbling down the stairs. Many of the lighthouse windows were shattered. As quickly as they had appeared, the flames subsided, leaving an illuminated lamp burning and a battered Martin lying dazed at the foot of the stairs below. The lighthouse had lit up again! Downstairs, Snorkmaiden screamed in terror...

On shore, Moominpapa, Snork and the Inspector were watching the island with telescopes, looking in vain for any sign of the children. Snork had been the first to alert the Inspector that his foolhardy sister had gone off on some reckless excursion with the boys again, against his wishes, and that none of them had returned.

They had tried making their way across to the island, only to discover they'd missed the low tide and the reef was underwater again. Night had fallen by now and with the storm almost upon them, the sea was turning rough and would soon make any ventures across to the island by boat impossible.

"Nothing," the Inspector was saying, "No sign of them on the shore. I can't see a thing in this darkness, even if they were standing right there, waving at us..."

"What have I done?" muttered Snork, "I should have kept a closer watch on my own sister! Ever since she met this Martin Park, he's become her idol. And I thought that young man would have more sense than to let some silly girl tag along..." He felt like swallowing his own words, realising that if he didn't tell his sister what to do at every turn, it might never have come to this.

"The children are out there, Snork," said Moominpapa, "Pinning the blame on anyone isn't going to help them now..."

At that moment, a bright light appeared on the horizon. They all stared at it, realising what they were seeing. The old lighthouse, abandoned for years, had suddenly and inexplicably lit up again.

"It's a signal!" cried Moominpapa, "They're over there! But, how do we get across to the island?" The Inspector thought hard; the only way to reach the island was by boat, but they needed someone experienced enough to brave the rough sea. His stern face suddenly formed into a smile.

"I know just the person we need to mount a rescue," he said, "Mymble can handle a swell like that in her skiff any day..." Mymble was Little My's older sister, who also lived in Moominvalley, and whom the Inspector had a secret crush on. She and her seafaring friend Too-Ticky operated skiffs for fishing charters. They could help them get to the island in time before the storm hit. Snork however wasn't so convinced.

"This is a serious situation, Inspector! You'd trust your girlfriend to help us...?" Unfortunately, that remark didn't sit well with the Inspector. He cleared his throat, silencing Snork.

"Don't you be impudent with me, Snork!" he chastised him sternly, "I'll let you know, I'd trust Mymble with my life. She's the only one who can help us save your sister."

"Then, what are we waiting for?" asked Moominpapa, gesturing wearily at the approaching storm, "Let's go!"

Over at the lighthouse, Martin sat in a mouldy armchair, recuperating. They had dragged him in a state of semi-consciousness from the lamp-room following the explosion, but luckily not badly hurt. A few minor burns on his face and arms, some scorch marks, and a frightful headache, but otherwise he was unharmed. Snorkmaiden was tenderly cleaning out his burns with Snufkin's handkerchief, like a caring mother.

"How are you feeling now, Martin?"

"My ears are still ringing like a beehive, but I think I'm all right," groaned Martin, nursing his aching head, "I'll live."

"You scared me half to death!" Snorkmaiden chastised him angrily, "I thought you'd blown yourself up! What were you thinking?"

"I'm sorry, Snorkmaiden," he said sheepishly, reaching over to hug her, "I guess I got a little careless there..." Snorkmaiden lovingly returned the hug, feeling ever so relieved that her friend hadn't been seriously hurt.

Moomintroll was looking at the pair with a slight expression of jealousy written on his face; although he wasn't the type to hold a grudge easily, this close affection between his sweetheart and his friend Martin was beginning to get a little too intimate for his liking.

"Even if you'd been blown to bits, we could always put you back together like a human jigsaw puzzle!" squeaked Little My, trying to lighten the mood with some black humour. Snorkmaiden, however, didn't seem to find the joke very funny. Little My had already dished out enough of her poor jokes for one day.

"Don't be so mean, Little My! Martin could have died today!"

"It was still a brilliant plan," said Snufkin, "If that light doesn't attract attention, nothing will." As if on cue, Sniff, who had been watching from the window with the lighthouse keeper's telescope, suddenly cried out with joy.

"I see a boat!" he cried, "They're coming for us! We're saved!"

The heavens were just about to open up when the skiff carrying Moominpapa and the Inspector reached the shore of the Hattifatteners' Island. Snork, who, like Sniff, got seasick easily, had ultimately decided to wait on shore. The boat's oarswoman, Mymble was a young woman in her early twenties, practically identical to Little My, only much taller and lacking the latter's distinct brashly attitude. Her partner, Too-Ticky, the second oarswoman, was a blond tomboy, strapping as a seasoned sailor and just as experienced, with short hair.

The Inspector had come banging on their door, asking for their help. At first, Mymble had been indignant about taking a boat out to sea at this hour, but had relented when she heard her sister was among those missing and could be in trouble. Pulling ashore, the rescue party disembarked, looking for any sign of the children.

"Moomintroll! Martin! Sniff! Snorkmaiden!" called Moominpapa, "Can you hear me?"

"Little My, where are you?" called Mymble, "Answer me, please!" But there was no one on the beach. Where could they be? Hadn't they seen the boat coming? Then, Too-Ticky pointed in the direction of the lighthouse. Straining their ears, they heard it in the wind: voices, calling from inside the lighthouse.

"Help! We're up here! Please, help us!"

Suspecting trouble, the Inspector drew his pistol and gestured at his party to follow him. They quickly made their way up the footpath towards the old lighthouse. There, they found their way blocked by a herd of swarming Hattifatteners, glowing bright white in the night. Although they gradually lost their electrical energy at night after which they'd fall dormant, they could still stay live and dangerous for hours in the dark.

The Inspector, realising the people he'd come to rescue were trapped inside the lighthouse, swarmed by these wretched creatures, drew his pistol.

"Get out of here, you dirty little beasts...!"

"No, wait, don't!" Moominpapa, who knew a few more things about Hattifatteners than the Inspector did, stopped him, "If you shoot at them, they'll swarm! I've got a better idea." He turned to Mymble and Too-Ticky.

"Go get the bailers from the boat and fill them with water. Then bring them back here. Quickly now!" The girls, realising what Moominpapa had in mind, hurried back to the boat and reappeared a moment later with two bailerloads of seawater. Moominpapa took one and passed the other to the Inspector.

Together, they began dousing the Hattifatteners. The instant the water touched them, they sparked and exploded into smithereens like firecrackers. Their electric charge was being grounded in the puddles of water, shorting them out like light-bulbs in a bathtub. The rest of them, scared by the water, scattered, disappearing into the bushes and out of sight. Soon, they'd made it to the lighthouse front door and entered.

"Papa! You've come to save us!" cried Moomintroll, running over to embrace his father. Moominpapa, feeling utterly relieved that his son was safe and sound, returned the hug.

"Of course I did, my boy," he said, "I'd never leave you. But how did you manage to get the lighthouse to light up again?"

"Yes, very clever thinking," said the Inspector, "Without that signal, we'd never have found you. Whose idea was it anyway?" Moomintroll turned to look at the battered Martin, who was being helped up by Snorkmaiden.

"...I'm all right, Snorkmaiden, really," the teen was saying, confidently getting to his feet, the headache and ringing in his ears having finally cleared. He'd need some of Moominmama's ointments for his blistered hands and face when they got back to Moominhouse, but otherwise he was healthy as a horse and needn't be treated like a patient.

"Very impressive, young Mr Park," said the Inspector, "Most ingenious. But, pray tell, what were you doing out here?" he asked, his tone suddenly turning stern, "Don't you know the Hattifatteners can be dangerous?"

Before any of them could explain themselves however, a roaring thunderclap caught them off-guard. The storm was upon them. They had to leave the island immediately or they'd be stranded here. They left the lighthouse, making their way back down to the beach as fast as they could. They were just about to push off, when Martin remembered they'd left their prize behind.

"Wait, we've forgotten the Hattifattener seeds!"

"Never mind those stupid seeds!" yelled Little My incredulously, but Martin had already turned around and was doubling back to their picnic site. His friends desperately called after him, "No, Martin, come back!"

His backpack was right where he'd dropped it, with most of the jars of seeds still inside, undamaged; Moomintroll and Snufkin's packs unfortunately had been burned to a crisp from when they'd accidentally trampled them in the confusion, causing the jars to break and unleashing more of the Hattifatteners that had swarmed them. But the remaining jars in his bag should be enough.

Turning to leave, he also spotted the lock-box of stolen trinkets lying in the grass nearby. Its thieving owner was also still there, clinging desperately to the top of a nearby tree, swarmed by more Hattifatteners waiting to receive him on the bottom.

"Help me! Someone call those wretched things off!"

Martin gave Stinky a smirk, as he picked up the box, "You hurled that jar at Snorkmaiden, you slimy little weasel. Now, you're getting your just deserts!"

"Shut up and do something!" Stinky whimpered, "I can't hold on! Hey, that's _my_ loot, you thief!" Martin tauntingly waved the box of stolen goods at him.

"Actually, it belongs to those whom you stole it from," Martin corrected him, "And now it's going to be returned to them in good faith. Unless, of course, you'd rather keep it and get to stay with it on this island for good?" Although Stinky hated to part with his prized loot trove, the idea of being abandoned on this island, in the middle of a storm and at the mercy of the Hattifatteners, was more than his non-existent courage could bear.

"All right, you can keep it!" he screamed, close to despairing, "Just call those things off! Please!"

Looking around, Martin saw a large bottle of Moominmama's favourite pink lemonade, which she'd made for Sniff, to bring on their picnic. Of course, Sniff hadn't had the time to drink any of it. Luckily, the bottle hadn't been broken. Picking it up, he popped the cork off and began sprinkling the Hattifatteners with the lemonade, like a fireman dousing a blaze with a fire extinguisher. Within seconds, they'd disappeared into the bushes and Stinky was able to come down, safe and sound, but once again penniless.

Half an hour later, they were all safely back in Moominhouse, soaked to the skin, but feeling very excited after their big adventure today. Moominmama had made them all hot broth and treated Martin's burns with some of the same ointment she'd used for Moomintroll's tail. Outside, the storm was raging with howling, gale-force winds and torrential rain, so they all gathered by the fire in the living room, feeling snug and cosy.

"It seems, my dears, you had quite an adventure today," said Moominmama, helping Snorkmaiden put on a beautiful hand-knitted headscarf she'd made for her to wear until her burnt hair would grow back. Looking at herself in a mirror, Snorkmaiden smiled – the first smile since her accident that morning. Moominmama had reassured her that the damage wasn't permanent, much to her relief, and that she'd have her beautiful hair back in a few weeks.

"What a beautiful headscarf, Snorkmaiden," said Moomintroll, "You look lovely." Snorkmaiden blushed.

"I think it was a wonderful adventure," said Snufkin, sipping his broth. Beside him, Sniff was busy stuffing his face with sandwiches, feeling hungry as a wolf after spending a whole day on a deserted island without food.

"A wonderful adventure? Ha!" scoffed Little My, "That Stinky ruined it all for us! If you ask me, we should have just left him there...!"

Stinky had been taken into custody the moment they'd reached land. Martin had presented the little thief's lock-box to the Inspector, who'd taken charge of the loot, reassuring them he'd see to it that it was returned to its rightful owners. He'd also promised the boys a generous reward for their 'services to the law', as well as a lengthy lock-up and some rather unpleasant community service to go with it for Stinky, as punishment for his petty thievery and for injuring Snorkmaiden. They wouldn't be hearing from that smelly, light-fingered imp again for some time. After bidding them goodnight, he'd then left them to join Mymble for a cup of tea.

"I would hardly call it a failure, Little My," said Snork, counting the jars of seeds from Martin's backpack, "You brought back the Hattifatteners' seeds we need for Martin's cam-pew-two-er...eh, com-tue-puer...whatever it's called. At least they weren't spoiled by the water..." Martin rolled his eyes; once he was satisfied his sister was all right, Snork's only concern was the condition of the jars of Hattifatteners' seeds they'd brought back from the island. Snorkmaiden shot him a glare; here she was, left practically hairless by those wretched Hattifatteners and he was more concerned about _them_! Then again, that was her brother.

Later that night, Martin lay awake in bed, going through some science journals on his computer on electronics design – the only source material he had available for the generator he and Snork would be making tomorrow – and taking down notes. For the first time in days, he felt almost a student again, doing research for his next big project.

His laptop battery was now on its last legs, with only another half hour at most of juice left. And Martin could think of no better way to spend it. Once it died, he would have no more reference material to work with, except his notes and of course his wits. In fact, he was so preoccupied with his work that he didn't hear the door open.

"Still awake, Martin?" asked Moominmama with concern, "It's late and you need rest, dear."

"Oh, I'm sorry, I was just a little preoccupied with something here," said Martin sheepishly, closing and putting away his laptop. Indeed, it was past midnight already and he was bushed. He could finish his research tomorrow. But, to his surprise, Moominmama didn't leave him. Instead, she approached him and took a seat next to his bed.

"You all right, Moominmama?"

"Martin, dear" she said, suddenly looking very uneasy. Whatever it was she wanted to ask him, it was important for the both of them. "Well, I've wanted to ask you, how would you like to be a member of this family?" This question caught Martin completely by surprise. For the past couple of weeks he'd been here, he'd regarded himself as nothing less than just a guest, a very welcome and beloved one, yes, but nothing more, nothing less. But _this_ he definitely wasn't expecting! The Moomins, _adopt_ him as their son?

Ever since he'd come to Moominvalley, he'd held onto the hope of going home someday. But as time went by, the less likelihood there seemed to be of that ever happening. As far as he could tell, there was no way of getting back to his own world. He had made some new friends here, yes, but he was still a stranger in this world, without identity, without family and without even a place to call home. All of that had ceased to exist the instant he'd crossed over into this new reality.

"Me? You mean...be like a _son_ to you?" he stammered, not knowing what else to say. Moominmama gently took his hand.

"You've done so much for this family already, Martin; in return, I want to know you as something more than just a visitor in my home. And I know Moomintroll would like an older brother. Please?"

Martin was overwhelmed. Now he finally had a family again! Yes, he would always miss his mother back in England, but now he could truly call Moominhouse home. And between Moominmama, Moominpapa and Moomintroll, he had a full family, with a loving mother and father and even a little brother! Life in this new reality couldn't get any better. He briefly flashed back to Ulrich and his vanished friend's wise words, that only in a world such as this, where one could truly satisfy his hearts' deepest desires, would he find happiness again.

Reaching over, he pulled Moominmama into a tight hug, "Oh, thank you so much, Moominmama! You have no idea what this means to me." Moominmama hugged him back with equal affection. She kissed his cheek.

"The pleasure's all mine, my son..."

 **Author's note:** Another chapter has come and gone! Coming up next, the construction of the flying ship finally begins. Enjoy and please review!


	7. Chapter 7 The Glider

Martin sat at the kitchen table in Moominhouse, feeling rather uneasy, but excited all the same. After his little talk with Moominmama last night, the matriarch of the Moomin household had happily announced that morning the latest addition to the family and had prepared them a king-sized breakfast to celebrate. Moominpapa and his wife hugged their new adoptive son.

"Welcome to the family, Martin," they said, holding him close. Martin was so touched, he was almost in tears. But the most ecstatic one of all was Moomintroll. The young Moomin was jumping with excitement, welcoming his new big brother into his life.

"Hooray! Welcome to our family, Martin!"

Martin knelt down and picked Moomintroll up for a hug. The young Moomin lovingly wrapped his arms around his neck, embracing him. Martin stroked his head.

"Thank you, little buddy," he said, "I promise, I'll be the best big brother you've ever known!" Moominpapa and Moominmama were watching the growing affection between their two sons, feeling very touched. At the table, Sniff and Little My were looking on with mixed reactions.

"Your new _brother_?" scoffed Little My, "He looks nothing like you! He's not even a Moomin...!" Martin didn't particularly mind Little My's cheap remarks, knowing she meant nothing by them, but Moomintroll was very annoyed. He glared at her.

"Be quiet, Little My!" he shouted, "Whatever he may look like, Martin is now my brother! And what's more, he's a Moomin at heart!" Little My stuck her tongue out at him. From his chair, Sniff was looking on with a slight twinge of jealousy. Although he wasn't the spiteful type, it hurt him to see Moomintroll finding himself another adoptive sibling. Being another adoptive child of the Moomins, it felt almost as if he was being replaced as a member of the family.

"Does this mean that I'm no longer your step-son?" he asked, feeling his insides twist up in sadness. Noticing his distress, Moominmama pulled him into a gentle hug to reassure him.

"No, Sniff, of course you're not been replaced! You're still, and will always be, a member of this family, as is Little My and Snufkin too. We Moomins never turn our backs on each other!" That seemed to brighten Sniff's mood, realising he wasn't being negated after all.

"Oh, I'm so happy for you, Martin!" cheered Snorkmaiden, hugging the teenager. After breakfast, they'd gone over to the Snorks' house, to tell them the good news. Snorkmaiden, like Moomintroll, was simply thrilled. The fact that Martin was now officially a member of the Moomin family made her feel so happy, ever more so because that meant he was now here to stay in Moominvalley, "Oh, how nice it is to have a lovely, caring big brother to watch over you..."

"Excuse me, does that mean I'm not a good enough brother to you?" asked the Snork indignantly, emerging from his study, where he'd been working all night on the blueprints for their new generator. The jars of Hattifattener seeds they'd brought back from the island were safely stored in a crate down in his workshop, well away from any beam of sunlight, until they were needed. Snorkmaiden, feeling rather ashamed at her remark, stared apologetically at her brother.

"No, of course not, Snork! I'm sorry," she mumbled, staring at the floor. Her brother may be a prat at times, but he would never turn his back on his little sister, or vice-versa. In Moominvalley, the bond of family ran deeper than blood and that was a fact. Snork gently patted her on the shoulder, implying no hard feelings.

With the celebratory event over, they all gathered in Snork's workshop, to start work on the most unusual generator ever constructed. Rather than use the customary design of a fuel-powered engine used to spin a dynamo, Snork had come up with an entirely original design.

They would build a large glass box with a metal-plated floor, which would contain the Hattifattener seeds, using blinds to control their sprouting. When exposed to sunlight by opening the blinds, the seeds would sprout into energy-carrying Hattifatteners; the metal plate would then be used to harness their energy, which would be channelled along wires as ordinary AC electricity.

Using his handwritten notes from the research material on electronics design he'd been browsing on his laptop the other day (the battery had finally died that morning), Martin had drawn up the blueprint for their second important piece of hardware they'd be needing for this project: a voltage regulator, to get the correct current he needed to recharge his dead laptop. With all the necessary tools and materials at hand, they got to work.

Working hard through the day, by the next day, they had finished building the box; the voltage regulator was a little trickier to put together, but after two more days of trial and error, Martin eventually managed to cobble together an awkward-looking device that could mistaken for a voltage regulator.

With a rotating control knob on the top, the box housed a rudimentary transformer, consisting of two wire coils attached on either end; one for the primary circuit, the other for the secondary _controlled_ one. In order to increase or decrease the output voltage level, the knob was connected to a rotating spindle, around which the coil of the secondary circuit was wrapped. By turning it clockwise, more lengths of coil would wrap around it, increasing the voltage; a counter-clockwise turn would likewise decrease it. Although extremely rudimentary equipment, especially when they'd have to hook it up to Martin's delicate laptop, it was worth a try.

Finally, three days later, everything was ready. Martin had brought his dead laptop over to the workshop and unpacked its charger. Snork stood over by their makeshift generator, which they had nicknamed 'the electro-box' with the jars of Hattifattener seeds. Two wires – one for current, the other for grounding – trailed away from the metal bottom of the box, one of which channelled through the voltage regulator, ending on a makeshift plug, where the charger would go.

Snork emptied the first jar of seeds into the electro-box and quickly closed the lid. Then, he opened up the blinds, exposing the interior to sunlight. The inert seeds twitched and burst like popcorn in a microwave, morphing into glowing Hattifatteners, sparking with electrical charges. They were ready for their first big test.

Wearing protective rubber gloves for insulation, they hooked up the wires – one into the voltage regulator, the second into an iron peg in the ground. They now had a source of AC current, similar to that of house power. All they needed now was to find the correct voltage. According to the manufacturer's label on the laptop charger, they needed 240 volts at 3 amps. But with no voltmeter or ohmmeter, Martin could only guess-estimate the settings on his regulator. In other words, he could only find the correct setting by experimenting.

Gingerly, he plugged the charger into the regulator's plug and carefully cranked up the power. He saw a small green light blink on the charger, indicating that it was drawing power, but the computer on the other end remained dead as a doornail. He cranked up the juice a little more. Still nothing.

"Snork, add more seeds!"

Snork added more of the Hattifatteners' seeds to the box, until it was filled to maximum capacity, with Hattifatteners cramped close together inside like sardines in a can. Going one inch at a time, Martin increased the power. He knew if he went above the limit, even a fraction, he could easily fry the whole system and the project would be over. He would never be able to find the spare parts to repair it, not in this world.

Suddenly, as the knob reached the middle, the laptop's screen blinked dully before a small icon of a charging battery appeared on screen. Watching it closely, Martin saw the percentage mark inside it start to climb rapidly. It was working. The battery was recharging! Grinning from ear to ear, he gave his friends the thumbs-up. The Moomins all cheered and applauded.

An hour later, the batteries were fully topped up and the computer was running again. A quick diagnostics check confirmed that luckily it had sustained no damage by their experimenting. Nonetheless, Martin wasn't taking any chances. The current produced by the Hattifatteners was very unstable and erratic, putting a lot of strain on the adaptor if he left it connected for long periods of time. So the moment the battery was full, he disconnected it. He would have to plug in again for a recharge every few days, but otherwise his computer and all its precious contents were now accessible to him again. At last, they could get to work on their flying ship!

That very afternoon, he copied Snork's blueprint into his computer and run it through a simulation; the results of course came out total failure, due to numerous mistakes in the weight/dimension ratios, amongst other fatal flaws in the design. They would never be able to get an aircraft like that off the ground. They had to start from scratch. Then, Martin had dug up a finished blueprint of a remote-controlled aeroplane he carried on his laptop, originally from his mother's model shop back in London.

Through adapting and improvising, he found he could alter the dimensions from miniature to full-scale, eventually coming up with a full-scale, airworthy glider, big enough for carrying two people. That would be their first prototype.

After running several simulations on his computer to make sure the altered design could fly, Snork began the slow, painstaking process of copying the new blueprint off of the computer and onto paper. Without a scanner or printer, everything had to be copied directly off the screen bit by bit, causing them great delays. At last, they were ready to start construction. Then came the question of financing.

Unlike the electro-box, which they'd built out of scrap metal they'd found lying around Snork's workshop and some old window glass panes from Moominpapa's attic, who was a well-known junk hoarder, a working glider would require more sophisticated materials. Although Snork knew several good suppliers around Moominvalley, they were costly. Snufkin had suggested they run errands to clear out a few attics and sheds that might contain useful materials, which the neighbours might be willing to give away, but it still wouldn't be enough.

"You can't build a safe aircraft out of scrap," Martin told Snork, "A corroded or faulty component could lead to disaster!" They were stuck.

But when word of their project reached the Inspector's ears, the burly Hemulen of the law had surprised them all with a bag of twenty gold coins he and his colleagues had collected for the boys, as a reward for bringing Stinky to justice. The little thieving miscreant was currently serving 1000 hours of community service as the police station's resident janitor, scrubbing the floors or doing the Inspector's laundry from dawn until dusk, in exchange for a reduced prison sentence, much to everyone's amusement. The boys, with the exception of the stingy Sniff, all immediately agreed to invest it in their flying ship.

With enough money to cover all the expenses, the project was at last full steam ahead. Between the efforts of Martin, Snork, Moomintroll, Moominpapa, Little My, Snufkin and Sniff (as far as hard work went for him anyway), they made good progress. Snorkmaiden and Moominmama also helped, bringing them drinks and lunch over at the workshop, where they'd work tirelessly all through the day.

Within a couple of weeks, the prototype was finished. Looking just like the model in the catalogue from his mother's shop, only full-scale and with added pilot's controls, Martin felt a deep sense of pride as they unveiled the freshly-painted plywood glider to their friends and family, who applauded. This was his brainchild, his first true masterpiece, which he could never have finished without the support of all his friends.

For the glider's first test flight, they had chosen a good spot on a nearby ridge with a high cliff overlooking Moominvalley, from where the glider could take off from a freefall. They would be towing the glider up to that ridge the very next morning, in preparation for the test flight.

Snorkmaiden had gone to bring their guests drinks. As she stepped out the door, bringing bottles of lemonade, she was caught by surprise by a wide, yellow-toothed grin belonging to a familiar short figure with dirty fur and sly eyes, who was standing on the porch. She groaned, recognising the last person she ever wanted to see again.

"Oh, no..."

"Hallo to you too, Snorkmaiden," grinned Stinky wickedly, "Long time, no see..." Snorkmaiden, whose hair Stinky had ruined on the Hattifatteners' Island a few weeks ago and had only just grown back, glared back at him.

"What do you want? Come to throw something else at me?"

"It's the Inspector's birthday today, so he gave me a day off for good behaviour," said Stinky, "So I thought I'd drop by and say hello." Snorkmaiden however wasn't fooled by his false politeness.

"You're not welcome in my house, Stinky," she said coldly, "What you did to me was inexcusable!"

"Oh, come on Snorkmaiden, you know I didn't mean it," retorted Stinky, showing no indication of true remorse, "Although, I've got to admit, you did look pretty funny without your hair!" He cackled at his own poor joke. But Snorkmaiden didn't find it very amusing.

"Funny? How dare you!" she screeched, "And to think Martin had the heart to save you, even after you nearly got us all killed!" As if on cue, Martin showed up, having come to investigate what was taking Snorkmaiden so long.

"Someone talking about me...?" he asked, before he noticed Stinky, "You again!" Stinky cowered at the sight of Martin towering above him. By that time, Stinky's unexpected arrival was beginning to attract others' attention as well. Hearing the commotion, Moomintroll came over to investigate, narrowing his eyes at the sight of Stinky.

"What are you doing here, Stinky? Looking for easy pickings again? Well, you want find any here!" But Stinky, who had noticed all the people gathered outside Snork's workshop, suspected something.

"What have you got in there?" he asked, looking over Moomintroll's shoulder, through the open door to the workshop, where the glider was being displayed, "What is that thing?" Martin hurryingly stepped in front of Stinky, blocking his view of the glider.

"That's none of your business, Stinky!" he snapped, "Now, push off!" But Stinky, who could sense an opportunity when he saw one, wouldn't take his eyes off the glider. Noticing the sly look on the little crook's face, Martin narrowed his eyes at him in warning.

"You stay away from my glider, Stinky, if you know what's good for you! You see that box there?" He pointed at the electro-box of Hattifatteners sitting outside the hanger, "If I catch you nosing around here again, you get to spend the night locked inside that box, with all the Hattifatteners for company! Do I make myself clear?" Stinky gulped; there was no way he was going near any Hattifatteners again. Instead, he turned tail and disappeared. Martin smirked after him. Like he'd told Snorkmaiden when they'd first met, the likes of Stinky were born losers.

Unfortunately, Stinky wasn't the good loser he was cut out to be. Still furious for losing his loot and for the community service he was now saddled with, he was bent on revenge against this Martin Park and the sight of that crazy flying ship he and the Snork had built had given him an idea.

That night, just before his curfew was due, Stinky returned to the Snorks' house. He could see a light on in the kitchen, where Snorkmaiden and her brother were having dinner. He could hear the Snork enthusiastically telling his sister how this latest invention of his would make them famous and she calmly reminding him that he owed everything to Martin and that he too was entitled to sharing the glory. Stinky smiled evilly; Snork and Martin could both enjoy their glory while it lasted, which wouldn't be for much longer.

Using a stolen lock-pick, he picked the lock to the Snork's workshop door and entered. The workshop, which had been converted to a makeshift hanger for the glider, was dark and deserted. It was perfect, thought Stinky. But stealing the glider wasn't on his agenda tonight.

With a mill-file in hand, Stinky examined the glider, looking for a good spot to cut. His eyes lit up as he noticed the protruding cables on either side of the tail-fin that controlled the rudder. Smiling wickedly, he filled through the cables until they were held together by only a few strands. Any sudden tug or pressure on the damaged cables would sever them, rendering the glider's steering system useless.

Stinky didn't pause to reflect on the fact that what he was doing could mean a catastrophic crash, which would make this a murder charge, rather than just a mean prank as intended. Silent as a cat, he exited the workshop, locking the door behind him, and returned to the police station, where he was confined every night until he'd served his sentence, before he was missed.

The next morning, the big moment had finally arrived. Pulling and pushing with all their might, they manoeuvred the glider, still smelling of fresh paint, up the narrow footpath, to the very top of the ridge. Martin and Snork, who would be commandeering the glider on her maiden flight, were suited up in warm woolly overcoats and gloves, which Moominmama had knitted for them on Martin's specifications. The glider had no canopy to shield them from the bitter cold of high altitude, only two small windshields of plated glass to keep the wind from blowing in their eyes.

While building the glider, the issue of communication had come up. Although Martin had detailed blueprints on his laptop, they had none of the materials or the technical know-how to build a radio. Even the simplest of electronics were unheard of in Moominvalley. So, instead, they would use signal-mirrors to communicate with the ground. That was why for the past few days, whenever they weren't working, Martin had been coaching Moomintroll and Snork in Morse code, which he'd learned from his father.

The only one who wasn't particularly excited about today's flight was Snorkmaiden. Now that the big moment had finally arrived, she was very scared for her brother and Martin, almost as if she had a bad premonition about all this. What if something went wrong and the glider crashed? All of a sudden, this bold escapade of theirs was beginning to look like they were only asking for trouble.

"Please don't do it, Snork! You'll both be killed!" she begged her brother, "I don't want to lose you! Not my only brother!"

"Don't be ridiculous, Snorkmaiden," said Snork, getting very irritated at his sister's whining, "This is a sturdy, professional design; it's perfectly safe. You little sisters are all the same! Can't you keep your big nose out of my affairs for once?" Snorkmaiden frowned in annoyance at her brother's attitude.

"Yours is just as big, Snork, and I don't want to see you get hurt!"

A quarrel seemed imminent, but then Martin stepped in. Gently, he took Snorkmaiden aside.

"Don't you worry, Snorkmaiden," he reassured her, "I'll look after your brother. Nothing bad is going to happen, I promise." His more positive approach seemed to calm Snorkmaiden down somewhat. Indeed, if there was anyone she could trust to keep Snork safe, it was Martin. She embraced him.

"Please be careful, Martin," she begged him, "Promise me you'll both be careful." Martin responded by patting her on the back in reassurance. Moomintroll next approached Martin for a hug.

"Good luck, Martin!" he said, "Look after yourself."

"I'll see you soon, buddy," said Martin, handing him the signal-mirror and a Morse code alphabet he'd drawn up for him. Moomintroll had made good progress learning this new dot/dash alphabet, but was still a bit slow and needed a reference chart to manage. He and Little My would be in charge of ground communications. The little Mymble had been most indignant about not being allowed to join them on their first flight, so Martin had given her the job of assisting Moomintroll, in hopes of appeasing her. But, looking now, he couldn't see her anywhere and figured she'd run off somewhere to sulk in private.

Everything was set. With the glider properly positioned on the top of a vertical incline, facing the edge of the cliff, Martin and Snork climbed into their tiny, cramped pilot's seats, Martin forward and the Snork aft, and strapped themselves in tightly.

Martin studied his console of extremely primitive flight instrumentation, which included a modified old barometer, which they'd converted to an altimeter, two liquid-filled angle-meter tubes for measuring roll and pitch, and a magnetic compass. They had no airspeed indicator, no artificial horizon and, of course, no radio. They didn't even have enough time to make bail-out parachutes, in case of emergencies. The fact that he was commandeering the most rugged aircraft ever constructed with his likewise severely limited piloting experience made Martin very uneasy. But this was no time for having second thoughts. The dice had already been cast.

Motioning to everyone to stand back, he gave Snork the thumbs-up and grasped the brake-release handle. On the count of three, he disengaged the brakes, letting the glider slide down along the slope, gathering speed. The edge of the precipice inched closer and closer. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Snorkmaiden cover her eyes in terror. All of the spectators were holding their breaths in anticipation. Then the glider sailed over the edge of the cliff.

Martin felt the familiar unsettling falling sensation he'd experienced many times before when flying with his father, before the aerodynamic properties of the glider kicked in, levelling it out and leaving it coasting along through open air. Grasping the control-column, he pulled back on the stick, testing his pitch and roll. Everything was responding nicely. He tried the pedals under his feet, which controlled the rudder; the glider slowly went into a left turn. They were flying!

Turning round, he saw Snork, quickly getting over his initial shock of flying for the first time, was overwhelmed by their achievement and was cheering out loud.

"I knew it! This test flight is a great success!"

"Let's take her around and send our first message, shall we?" called Martin over the blowing wind, taking the controls and banking to the right, taking the glider into a circle. Although the blowing winds of the hills were keeping them aloft, gravity was pulling them back down to earth faster that he'd expected. Their glide time was running out. Lacking enough experience, Martin figured they could do one pass, to send their message, and then come about for landing. That should be enough for their first test flight.

Suddenly, he was caught off-guard by a voice calling his name – and it wasn't the Snork! Turning round, looking inside the crawl-space inside the fuselage between the two seats, he realised why they were losing altitude so fast. It seemed they had some extra weight on board, which they hadn't accounted for in their calculations. And the source of this extra weight was none other than...

"Little My!" yelled Martin incredulously, realising too late the little Mymble, who never took 'no' for an answer had stowed away inside the glider, when they weren't looking. "What are you doing here? Stowing away on a glider? You're bonkers!" Little My pulled a face at him.

"Well, if you'd let me come along, I wouldn't have to stowaway, would I?" she asked, giving him a defiant look. Martin rolled his eyes; Little My always got her way, no matter what lunacy it took.

Back on the cliff, Moomintroll, Snorkmaiden, Moominpapa and Snufkin were watching the whole thing with awe. Snorkmaiden had buried her head in Moomintroll's shoulder, whimpering with worry for Martin and Snork.

"Oh, my goodness, they're going to fall...! They're going to fall...!" But then, Moomintroll suddenly started cheering.

"They've done it! Look, Snorkmaiden! They're flying!"

It's all right, Snorkmaiden. The boys are doing fine," said Moominpapa, pointing at the glider sailing in the distance. They all watched in amazement as it made a few odd turns, which was probably Martin and Snork testing the controls, before levelling out again, flying smoothly along just as planned. They all watched, feeling absolutely gobsmacked. There was no further doubt that Martin's claims that building a working flying-ship was possible were indeed true.

"Wow, look at them flying!" exclaimed Moomintroll excitedly, waving at the glider did a fly-by. They could see the flashing of Snork's signal-mirror, as he sent them a message. Noticing it, Moomintroll took down dictation.

"'Test successful'," he read, consulting the message against the Morse chart, "I knew they could do it!"

"Well, so did I to be honest," said Snorkmaiden, feeling rather embarrassed by her earlier over-worrying. As the Snork had said, it was perfectly safe, "And look, isn't that Little My?" She pointed at the third figure visible just behind Martin's seat, waving down at them. It seemed their friend, small as she might be, couldn't possibly resist the thrill of being on that first flight.

Up on the glider, everything was going like clockwork. With Martin at the controls and Snork busy with the signal-mirror, it seemed the test flight was nothing less than a great success. Unfortunately, the two rookie pilots had no idea of the danger lurking in the back, where the vengeful Stinky had tampered with it.

When the glider had been towed up onto the ridge and inspected before take-off, nobody had noticed the damaged cables that controlled the rudder. During take-off, wind vibrations had put a lot of strain on the already weakened cables. Although not enough to snap them outright, the constant pulling and tugging from Martin's control column was quickly wearing them out, causing more and more strands to give way, until the two halves of the cable were only held together by a single thread.

As Martin began to make a left turn, to come about for landing, the left-side cable pulled tight for the last time. The snapping of the cable caused the rudder fin to flop freely in the wind, throwing the glider off-balance. As it swung to and fro, the tension put too much strain and the other damaged cable, which also followed. The rudder was no longer connected to the control system. In another second, the glider was spiralling out of control.

Snork, Martin and Little My all screamed in terror...

"I say, aren't they flying a little clumsily?" asked Sniff, who was the first to notice the glider start flying erratically. Something was very wrong up there.

Very soon, the glider was completely out of control, dancing all over the place, looking like it was about to plummet to the ground at any second. Snorkmaiden gasped in sheer terror, as her worst fears were suddenly realised...

 **Author's note:** I just managed to make my deadline before the New Year! All my stories have been updated as promised. For those of you who are also reading the Greek translations, there will be updates for those too, before the holidays are up. Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year to all!


	8. Chapter 8 Sprouting Wings

Martin was thrown sideways as the glider suddenly swayed off-course, in a hard left-hand turn. Alarmed, he tried to correct the attitude, but found his rudder was inexplicably dead. With the inoperative rudder jammed in a left angle, they were now stuck in a left-hand circle, the sideslip quickly causing them to lose speed and altitude.

"What's happening? What's going on?" Snork shouted in the back, sounding absolutely terrified.

"We've got a problem here, Snork," Martin called over his shoulder, "I've got no rudder control here. What about yours?" Hurryingly pulling himself together, Snork tested the rudder pedals from his seat, but the rudder didn't respond from there either. The system was completely gone.

"Nothing, no control!" he cried desperately, "I think the control cables have snapped..." All his previous confidence about flying had completely deserted him. No doubt he was regretting not listening to his sister's warning earlier! But Little My, in spite of the situation, was cheering out loud, enjoying what easily might turn out to be her last thrill ride before they were all splattered all over the ground like human marmalade.

But Martin didn't have time to panic and he certainly wasn't giving up so soon. He had to work the problem and fast. Looking ahead, he felt his stomach bottom out. They were on a collision course with the Lonely Mountains! If they couldn't correct this turn and soon, they'd end up smashed to pieces on the side of the mountain!

Martin thought desperately for a solution. All he had left to work with were the elevator and the ailerons. Lacking enough experience in flying a crippled aircraft, he could only improvise a way around the damaged rudder and regain control. The rudder fin, he figured, was still attached to the back of the tail by its hinges, but they had no functioning control cables to change the angle. However, they still had something else...gravity.

"All right, you two, hold on tight!" he called, "I'm going to try something." Crossing the ailerons, he sent the glider into a sideways barrel-roll. Snork screamed in terror, as he suddenly found himself hanging sideways in his seat in open air, with a nasty long fall beneath him. Luckily, his harness kept him from falling out of the glider to his doom far below.

"What are you doing? Are you crazy?!" he screamed hysterically, "You'll kill us all!" But Martin wasn't listening. Instead his eyes were focused on his attitude and airspeed. With the wings now tilted completely vertically, they were quickly losing airspeed, about to go into a stall and sink like a rock.

 _Come on, my pretty... Come on..._

Just as the airspeed was about to drop below stall minimums, the rudder fin slipped downwards with gravity, arresting the turn. Martin rolled the glider upright again and saw that they had successfully diverted away from the mountain. But their troubles were far from over because the rudder hadn't completely straightened out; instead, mostly due to Martin's poor timing, it had slipped into a hard _right-hand_ turn, so now they were on a course towards the open sea.

Martin considered his rapidly dwindling options. He couldn't risk doing another barrel-roll; they had already lost too much altitude so were practically grazing the treetops of Moominvalley. He could try and ditch the glider, but with the rudder stuck at such a wide angle, they'd go into a spin and smash up on impact. There was no way they could make a safe landing unless somebody could go back there and manually zero that rudder. Wait, that was it!

"Little My, I've got a job for you," he called to their little stowaway, "I want you to crawl into the tail-cone and, when I tell you, straighten out the rudder. Quickly now!"

Surprisingly, Little My didn't protest at this insanely dangerous task and, like an airborne spider, crawled over Martin and Snork's heads and into the narrow tail-cone. Grabbing the ends of the severed cables, still flapping loosely around, she took control of the rudder, bypassing the destroyed control system. With Martin barking instructions at her, they struggled to regain control.

"Good, a little more to the left... No, Little My, to the _left_ – your other left!" he shouted, trying to get through to her. It wasn't easy; Little My had absolutely no talent for flying and manning the rudder in that awkward back-to-front position made it all the more difficult. Between her rough, sloppy movements and Martin struggling to make her get it right, the glider was jerking to and fro, making it almost impossible to align for landing.

"A little more... All right, hold it steady right there!" called Martin, as they finally got the glider back on course. With Little My holding the inoperative rudder steady, they were now coming in straight into the centre of Moominvalley. If they didn't encounter an obstacle in their path, they might have a chance of setting her down in one piece. With Martin handling the controls and Snork trying not to look at the ground rushing up to meet them, they braced for a rough landing.

Suddenly, the glider slammed down hard onto the grass. The fragile structure shook dangerously, threatening to break apart, as Martin pulled back hard on the brakes. But they were going way too fast and, even on the ground, the glider was as silent as a coasting bicycle, unable to let any bystanders know of the danger. Looking up ahead, Martin gasped as he noticed an unsuspecting Moominmama walking right into the path of the glider!

"Look out, Moominmama!" they all cried, "Get out of the way!" But she was too far away to hear them. In another five seconds, the glider would be upon her with a speed of a moving train.

Martin couldn't let them mow down Moominmama, so he did the only thing that came to mind: grabbing the control stick, he rolled the glider sideways again, so that it was moving with one wheel off the ground, the wings tilted at an almost vertical angle. That barely saved Moominmama from being knocked down, as the sweeping left wing sailed right over her head, missing her by an inch. Martin could see the look of sheer terror and surprise on her face as they passed by her.

Unfortunately, the steep roll caused the exposed right wind to graze the ground, burrowing deep like a plough. That, in turn, caused the glider to spiral out of control again and sway off the path. Martin watched hopelessly as they ran headlong into a nearby garden fence. Having done everything in his power to save himself and his friends, he threw his hands in front of his eyes, just as he felt the crash of the impact...

Moominmama had been out gathering berries for the pie she was making for the family tea. Her husband and the children would be so delighted with the surprise when they got home from their little escapade up on the hill. She was just making her way home with a basketful of berries, humming pleasantly to herself, when suddenly she heard someone shouting behind her.

Turning, she dropped her basket of berries in alarm at the sight of Martin's glider coming straight at her, about to ram her. But that didn't happen. At the last second, the glider swayed sideways, barely missing her. Moominmama watched in terror as it went off the path, smashing straight through Mrs Fillyjonk's garden fence.

"Oh no, Martin...!" Horrified, she ran to her stepson's aid.

Mrs Fillyjonk was out in her garden, hanging her laundry, while her children prepared the table on the veranda for tea. Unlike the bohemian Moomins, she was not the type to tolerate childish games or any other kind of indecent behaviour. A single mother of three, she was raising her children to be proper, well-mannered ladies and gentlemen.

Although she was on good terms with the Moomin family, she did not approve of her children intermingling with Moomintroll and his wild friends, believing they were a bad influence. After all, what kind of irresponsible family permitted their children to wonder outside all day unsupervised, rather than tutor them in their education, or at the very least have them contribute to the household chores, like everyone else? And then there was the family's poor choice of guests.

She most certainly would not take in riffraff like that tramp Snufkin, or that little beast Little My, or that drifting foreigner Martin Park! True, she might have been wrong about that boy, when she'd accused him of robbing her, but that hardly make him any more trustworthy, at least as far as she was concerned. Not that weirdo foreigner, who claimed he came from another reality! What nonsense! Alas, in spite of her efforts, her children would often go behind her back and play with the Moomins, much to her displeasure. Whatever would her late husband think, if he could see them now?

As she went to get the last of her laundry from the ironing board on the veranda, suddenly, something large came crashing through the garden fence like a giant cannonball. Mrs Fillyjonk screamed and fell backwards over the tea-table, scattering its contents everywhere. In the blink of an eye, her laundry, washing lines and all, along with her beautiful flowerbeds, were sent flying.

Scared within an inch of her life, Mrs Fillyjonk shakily got to her feet again, wondering what on earth had just happened. The veranda was a right mess of spilled tea and smashed china and her beautiful new dress was stained with marmalade and cake crumbs. But that was nothing compared to the transformation of her garden.

It was as if a tornado had come sweeping through. Her flowerbeds were all torn up and her laundry lay scattered all over the grass. All her painstaking hours of washing were wasted. Two gaping holes could be seen on the fence on either side of the garden, marking the path of the glider. The sight of total devastation made her scream out loud.

"My garden!" she shrieked, "What's happened to my beautiful garden?"

Her children had heard the commotion and came running out to see what was going on. They all gawped at the sight of their mother standing there in her cake-stained dress and with her usually well-kempt hair all over the place. From an elegant lady, she now looked like some homeless vagabond or a witch. For a moment, there was only silence. Then, the children burst out laughing. It was only then that Mrs Fillyjonk noticed one of the perpetrators: Little My, who had dropped clear before the crash, stood triumphantly atop the fence, gracefully bowing like a circus performer to her audience.

The Fillyjonk children cheered and clapped at her excitedly but fell silent at the sight of their furious mother. Mrs Fillyjonk was balling her fists in anger, her face red as a tomato, as she glared daggers at Little My, who gulped. Somebody was really going to get it now...

Next door to the Fillyjonk house was the Moominvalley police station, the home and workplace of the Inspector. With Stinky now handling all of his housekeeping, as part of his community service, the Inspector had plenty of time to himself, which he dedicated to writing love poems to Mymble. He had given his staff the day off, allowing him some privacy.

As he stood up from his desk with a cup of tea, trying to think of a good stanza that would charm the lovely Mymble, he was suddenly caught by surprise when his office door was blasted open by something large that came crashing into his police station. He was sent tumbling backwards over his desk like a gigantic beach ball. At last, the wrecked glider finally came to a stop.

The Inspector pulled himself out from under his overturned desk. What had happened? Terrorists? Straightening his hat, he turned to look at the source of this rude intrusion. He could see Martin and Snork still strapped inside this weird flying contraption of theirs, what was left of it anyway, which had just wreaked havoc across Moominvalley. He frowned; if this was their idea of a prank, it was a very bad one and the Inspector was not known for his appreciation of bad jokes.

"Oh, young Mr Park, what an unexpected surprise," he said, raising an eyebrow at the sight of a battered and shaken Martin removing one of Mrs Fillyjonk's corsets from off his head where it had been tangled. The teenager stared back at the large Hemulen.

"Good morning to you too, Inspector," he groaned, nursing a bruised wrist. But the Inspector was not very pleased.

"That was quite a dramatic entrance you made, young man," he said sternly, "Care to explain yourself?"

"Controls failed," explained Martin, realising he could be in big trouble, "I don't know why..."

But the Inspector wasn't listening. Instead, he was looking at Snork in the back, his eyes wide. Turning, Martin saw the inventor was lying forward in his seat, his forehead bruised from where he'd struck the control panel on impact. His eyes were closed and he wasn't moving. At that moment, Moominmama came running in, looking scared out of her wits.

"Oh, my goodness!" she cried, hurrying over to pull Martin out of the ruined glider. He was slightly bruised and battered, but otherwise unharmed, "Praise the Booble, you're all right, Martin! What happened?" At that moment, Snorkmaiden, Sniff, Moomintroll, Moominpapa and Snufkin, who had made their way down from the hilltop as fast as they could, also came running in.

"Oh, Martin, you're alive!" cried Snorkmaiden with relief, hugging him, "I thought you were going to die...!" Then, she noticed the unmoving Snork. She gasped.

"Snork? Oh, my goodness!" She knelt beside her unmoving brother, weeping, thinking he was dead, "Beloved brother, please wake up!"

"He's all right, Snorkmaiden," the Inspector reassured her, holding his hand in front of Snork's nose to check his breathing, "He's just knocked out."

Martin was wondering what had happened to Little My, when they were interrupted by a third, very unpleasant arrival. Mrs Fillyjonk came breezing into the police station in a rage, dragging Little My by the ear with one hand and one of her muddy dresses from the laundry in the other. At the sight of them, she exploded.

"What's gotten into you, you miserable little vandals?!" she shouted, almost screaming the whole station down, "You hooligans have ruined my garden, my laundry! You'd better pay for all the damage, or so help me, I'll...!" Martin sighed in exasperation; Mrs Fillyjonk and her short temper was all they needed right now. This sure wasn't turning out to be a good day at all.

Sometime later, they all returned to Moominhouse, where Moominmama and Snorkmaiden were busy tending to Snork in the guestroom. Luckily, the inventor had only suffered a mild concussion and would soon make a full recovery. Martin had only suffered a few mild bruises and Little My, as usual, was completely unscathed. But that was of little consolation, because the incident had landed them in a lot of trouble.

The Inspector sat at the kitchen table in Moominhouse, sipping a cup of tea in silence, his expression stony. Moomin, his parents, Martin and their friends also sat around the table, their expressions solemn. Although he'd managed to persuade Mrs Fillyjonk not to thrash the children right there and then, the pompous troll-woman was demanding reparations from the guilty party. The Inspector hated to break the news to his own neighbours, but the law was the law.

"I was hoping it wouldn't come to this," he said, "But you boys have a responsibility for today's mishap. You will all have to do community service, to repair the damage to Mrs Fillyjonk's house and to the station – it's either that or jail time." There were instant protests all around.

"Community service?" groaned Sniff, "But we didn't do anything wrong!"

"I'm not doing community service for anybody!" screamed Little My defiantly, "And if Mrs Fillyjonk tries to make me, I'll just tear up the rest of her garden, this time on purpose!" The Inspector gave her a stern glare, warning her to watch her mouth. This was a serious matter and left no room for childish threats.

"Inspector, please, they're just children," protested Moominmama. Unfortunately, the Inspector's hands were tied.

"It's the only way I'm afraid, Moominmama," he said sadly, "Otherwise, Mrs Fillyjonk will be pressing changes and rightly so. The boys should have known better than to be playing with such a dangerous contraption, especially you, Mr Park!" However, Martin, suspecting foul play, had been examining the glider's control system and made an interesting discovery. He placed a length of cable he had removed from the wreckage onto the table. The Inspector noticed one end had been severed, cut clean through it seemed.

"Somebody tampered with this," said Martin, "This was no accident and no fault of ours, Inspector. You're looking for somebody who tried to kill us!"

The Inspector frowned. If this was true, then they were dealing with a case of attempted murder, which made it a lot more serious than he thought. The others were likewise shell-shocked at this new development. Who in Moominvalley could be above such a terrible act?

"Who would want to hurt my children?" said Moominmama, her eyes narrowing in anger. Martin had never seen her look like that before. The very thought that someone had tried to kill her stepson in a staged accident enraged her to the point of losing her usually calm and understanding demeanour. "What kind of a beastly creature would do such a thing?"

But Martin, who had had time to think things over, already had a suspect in mind. His expression darkened.

"I think I know who it was..."

Stinky was snoozing happily under a tree. Having finished his community service for one day, he had gone aside to celebrate his little victory in private. He'd heard it down at the police station during his curfew last night that that insufferable Martin Park and Snork were in trouble with the law for trashing Mrs Fillyjonk's house and would now be doing community service. And, boy, was that music to Stinky's ears!

"That will teach that stupid buffoon to mess with old Stinky!" he chanted to no-one-in-particular, "I ought to congratulate him and that crackpot Snork – they're now honourable criminals just like me!" He cackled nastily at his cheap sarcasm, not realising he was being watched.

"Why, thank you very much for the complement," said an icy voice in his ear, "Because I'll be happy to return it in kind by breaking every bone in your body!" Stinky jumped to his feet, only to find Martin standing there with a large club clutched firmly in his hands. Too late, Stinky realised, thanks to his big mouth, he'd unwittingly made a full confession of his crime for Martin to hear. And he wasn't alone.

Looking around, Stinky saw Moomintroll, Sniff, Snufkin, Little My and even Snorkmaiden, emerge from all around, surrounding him. All of them carried clubs, rolling-pins, frying pans, brooms and other makeshift weapons and wore furious expressions on their faces. Stinky gulped. This time, he was in big trouble!

"Say your prayers, you little rat!" growled Martin, "It's payback time!"

Within seconds, they had him well in hand and dragged him, kicking and screaming, back to the Snorks' house. Before they handed him over to the Inspector, they would teach him a little lesson!

Little My opened up the box of Hattifatteners. The electrified creatures glowed and sparked around at the bottom, unable to climb the smooth glass sides of the box. Martin and Snufkin held Stinky by his ankles, ready to drop him in. Stinky whimpered, realising what they meant to do to him.

"No, no, no, not this!" he wailed pitifully, "Look, it was only a little joke...!" Martin rolled his eyes.

"A little joke, huh?" he asked coldly, "Well, too bad, because we didn't find it very funny!"

"Please, I won't do it again, I promise!" Stinky continued to plead, but his pleas only fell on deaf ears. In one final desperate effort, he turned to Snorkmaiden, who was watching the boys with crossed arms.

"Please, Snorkmaiden, don't let them do this to me!" he cried, "Hang me upside-down from a cliff, give me a bath, anything but this!" But even gentle-hearted Snorkmaiden didn't feel any pity for him.

"You put my brother in hospital, Stinky!" she shouted, "You're now getting exactly what you deserve!"

Martin and Snufkin let go of Stinky, dropping him head-first into the box and Sniff slammed the lid shut. Little My fitted a padlock and clicked it shut, sealing Stinky inside with the Hattifatteners for company. They heard his screams of pain over the buzzing noise of the Hattifatteners electrocuting him, literally frying him alive.

"Help! Let me out of here! This hurts!"

"Don't worry, Stinky!" called Moomintroll, "We'll let you out – sometime tomorrow!" Ignoring Stinky's cries for help, they left him to his misery in his new torture-cell.

"You aren't really going to leave him in there all night, are you?' asked Snorkmaiden, thinking they might be going a bit too far. After all, their plan was to punish Stinky, not kill him.

"Don't worry, Snorkmaiden," said Martin, "He's going back to prison soon, where he belongs. He won't be able to do us any more of his mischief from behind bars!"

True to word, an hour later, Martin removed the semi-barbecued Stinky from the Hattifatteners' box and then he and Moomintroll brought the thieving imp, dazed and with all his filthy fur burned away, to the police station. The Inspector was pleased with them for apprehending the true culprit and happily announced that the charges against them were dropped. He didn't even bother asking them how the little rascal had ended up burnt to a sizzle, although Martin suspected he already knew the answer.

The law showed Stinky no more leniency than the boys had. His one thousand hours of community service were increased to ten thousand and he had been revoked the privilege of moving about freely with restrictions, until he had served the whole of his sentence. By the next day, the Inspector's men had him over at Mrs Fillyjonk's house, slaving away, putting the garden he'd ruined back together. They wouldn't be hearing from him again for a long time. Unfortunately, that still didn't solve their problems.

The glider had been completely destroyed. A few days after the crash, when Snork was finally fit to get out of bed, they gathered into the hanger where the wreckage of their short-lived glider was kept in storage. In spite of Martin and Snork's best efforts, the damage was determined too severe to fix. They had been able to salvage a few intact components for reuse, but otherwise she was only good for scrapping.

"We'll never be able to make it fly again," said Martin, shaking his head in disappointment, "She's completely totalled."

"All that work for nothing!" cried Snork in anger, kicking the smashed fuselage in frustration, causing him to hop about in agony with a bruised toe.

"But you've still got the blueprints," said Sniff, "Can't you build another one?"

"With what money?" asked Snork glumly. They had already spent all of their reward money on the prototype, so they had nothing left to build another. Moominpapa had tried approaching the Inspector, to ask whether they might be entitled to a second reward for unravelling Stinky's dirty scheme. Unfortunately, the Inspector had declined their request, reminding them that he had already gone to extreme lengths to keep Martin and Snork from going to jail for vandalism and that they should be grateful for that much.

"Don't worry, we'll find more money somehow," said Snorkmaiden, taking her brother's hand to calm him. "Please don't be mad, Snork." It seemed the project, starting off as a would-be great success, was now over.

To take their mind off their misery, Moominmama had offered to cook them all a lavish dinner and invited all of their friends over. With a king-sized feast waiting on the table, Moominmama stood up and raised her glass to propose a toast.

"I give you Little My, who saved the day!" she said, staring at the little Mymble who sat proud and puffed-up, enjoying the spotlight she'd inevitably cast herself into. Snork had told them how she'd managed to take control of the damaged rudder, so Martin could land them safely. They all raised their glasses to her health.

"To Little My!"

The dinner, including Moominmama's exquisite pumpkin pie, really helped to take their minds off the glider, but not for Martin, who was finding hard to join in the festivities like everyone else. Indeed, he didn't have much of an appetite and was hoping dinner would end soon so he could get to bed.

After the meal, they retired to the lounge. Sniff had brought along an old gramophone that once belonged to his grandmother. After Moominpapa had repaired it, they put on a record and the sound of music filled the lounge. That quickly inspired the guests to take to the floor for a dance.

Moominpapa danced the waltz with Moominmama, while Moomintroll danced the tango with Snorkmaiden. Sniff had paired up with Little My, the former clumsily trying to avoid stepping on her toes. Snufkin, as usual, preferred to play his harmonica, adding to the music. Snork, who was still fighting dizzy spells from his injury, just sat resting on the sofa with a drink in hand, watching his sister dance. Martin meanwhile had excused himself and retreated outside on the veranda, preferring to be left alone.

He sat gloomily in one of the chairs, staring out at the night sky. Although he had enough self-control not to let it out, the disappointment he felt for the loss of his glider was more profound that even Snork's. That glider had been his masterpiece, the only thing that gave him any real purpose in this new world. But now, thanks to that miserable little miscreant Stinky, his glider, which had performed so well, even for just a few minutes, was history. Without more money, they had little to no chance of building another one anytime soon.

 _It's all my ruddy fault_ , he fumed to himself, _I should have kept a closer watch on it!_

"Martin?"

Turning, Martin saw Snorkmaiden standing there, looking concerned, "What are you doing out here all alone?"

"Just thinking, Snorkmaiden, that's all," said Martin, hoping she'd just leave him alone, "Shouldn't you be dancing inside with the others...?" However, Snorkmaiden was not about to leave him to his misery. She gently took his hand.

"Cheer up, Martin," she said, "Why are you so sad?"

"All of my work's been wasted, Snorkmaiden," he said glumly, fighting the urge to yell at her out of sheer frustration and maybe hurt her feelings, "I had this dream for a whole new future and now it's all ruined! I've got nothing left!" Unfortunately, Snorkmaiden didn't take kind to his remarks.

"Don't you say that, Martin!" she said reproachfully, "No, don't you dare! You still have Moomintroll, Moominmama, Moominpapa, and all of our friends! And you still have me!" She fixed Martin with a stern gaze.

"I'll let you know that nothing means more to me than my friends," she said, "If anything happened to you, or to Snork for that matter, I don't know what I'd do! So quit mopping and thank the Booble that you're still here and in one piece! You can always replace some broken goods; you can't replace your friends and family!"

Realising his blunder and outright selfishness, Martin sighed apologetically, "I'm sorry, Snorkmaiden. I guess I'm being a bit of a prat... Thank you." She smiled, accepting his apology. She'd given him the encouragement he needed. She giggled as Martin pulled her onto his lap for a hug.

"I told you boys can sometimes be a bit silly, didn't I?" Martin raised an eyebrow; Snorkmaiden was really asking for it. Playfully grabbing her in a strong grip, he started tickling her senseless. Snorkmaiden squealed, begging for mercy. Tickle fights was one thing where she always came out beaten.

"I take it back, I take it back!" she squealed as Martin's fingers found her sides, driving her to hysterics, "Please, mercy!"

Finally, Martin released her and she settled down beside him, resting her head on his shoulder. Martin tenderly stroked her hair. The two of them had built a strong bond ever since he'd come to Moominvalley. Of all his friends, Snorkmaiden would always hold a special place in his heart. She was the first friend he'd made here, the one who'd welcomed him into his new life.

Missing the music still playing inside, Snorkmaiden stood up, "Martin, will you dance with me?"

But Martin smiled, having something better to offer. He opened up his laptop sitting aside on the veranda table. Scrolling down through his list of songs, he put on his favourite disco soundtrack. Although Snorkmaiden had never heard music like that before, much less understand the English language, Martin could tell she really liked it. Time to show her some contemporary dancing. He stood up and bowed low.

"May I have this dance, my fair lady?" Snorkmaiden bowed courteously.

Taking her hand, very gentleman-like, Martin led her onto the lawn. With the music playing on the laptop on full blast, the two youngsters danced to the music under the moonlight. Looking towards the house, Martin saw Moominmama watching them from the window, while the party continued on inside. She waved at him, smiling at seeing her stepson looking so happy and at peace with the world.

 **Author's note:** Originally, this chapter was going to be longer, but I figured it would then turn out too long. Enjoy and please review. Happy Easter!


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